


Cara Mia

by BelowTheWind



Category: Assassination Classroom
Genre: (light), Blood, Cunnilingus, F/M, Hand Holding during Sex, Knifeplay, Mafia AU, Making Love, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Canonical Character Death, Some Italian, Vaginal Sex, Violence, cause im soft, dates around tuscany, i haven't really spoken italian in ten years, i translate in the notes at the end, karma fucks the readers legs while he eats her out, might be rusty, please lmk if there's anything i should change!, probably is rusty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:22:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26010337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelowTheWind/pseuds/BelowTheWind
Summary: You’re drawn in to his arms, his hold fierce, tight, grasping at you, clinging to you like he’s the dress plastered to your body. His hands explore as he kisses you, his lips cold from rain, hands a sharp chill against your bare back as they run over your skin. The kiss starts off voracious, desperate, and insatiable - but it eases slowly in to something a little more gentle, a little more pliant.When he pulls away, he’s breathing heavy, and he rests his forehead to yours. “You scared me.” He admits, and you run a hand carefully over his cheek.“I’m sorry. This isn’t the first time I could’ve lost my life on the job, though, Karma.”He frowns, turns and kisses the heel of your hand. “I know. But it’s the first time I’ve seen it.”
Relationships: Akabane Karma/Reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 131
Collections: Yagami Yato FanFic Event: August 2020





	Cara Mia

**Author's Note:**

> this fic took me OUT god damn. huge thanks to the Hype Squad and the Party Bus for keeping me going on this, y'all the real MVPs. written for the Yagami Yato Fanfic event, hosted on her discord. definitely check out the others works in the collection this fic is in - we've got some really talented writers over there, all with an amazing story to share with you. 
> 
> if you're already in the discord, you can find me there as Windy. if you want to find me on twitter, then go check out BelowTheInk, my writing tumblr is windy-scribbles :) 
> 
> my italian is a little (a lot) rusty, so if you know there's anything that should be fixed, feel free to let me know at my social media or in the comments below! 
> 
> **Translations are numbered and in the end notes.**

Stumbling in to your fiance as a young teen had been pure coincidence. At first, as Karma was still perfectly willing to admit, the only thing that drew him in had been your beauty. Everything about you had been enticing to him - and if he hadn’t been so drawn to your looks, he probably wouldn’t have paid you any mind in class. 

But then he’d been privy to your attitude. To the fire that you had, to the way you shot him down and sassed him back at every available opportunity. A mere peasant like yourself - beautiful or not - back talking to  _ him  _ of all people? Absurd. But there you were, your pretty lips curved in to that sarcastic, almost venomous smile. 

As silly as it may be, he thrived on the fact it was only for him. Oh, of course you smiled at your classmates. Sweet ones, playful, teasing, and everything in between. But the sharp ones were all  _ his.  _ There was never any disdain behind it, no. Never a true hatred. 

Just a desire to fire verbal bullets back and forth until one of you couldn’t dodge in time. 

His….”feelings” for you (he was still so odd about using that term, even years later) had started off as an obsession. A gnawing need to see you break under his words, under his hands. To see you become wholly, entirely, submissive to his whims. It was in your graduating year that he’d pulled you - well and truly, submersing you like he’d tossed you in a freezing lake - into his world. 

You didn’t know what to expect, the first time he’d fucked you. There was no romance, no love - nothing but a mutual, burning desire to claim the other, to lay waste to your reservations, destroy all pretenses of being coy, of dancing around the issue. He wanted to fucking break you, and you him. When neither side gave in, you rocked one another’s world with burning, visceral pleasure, cumming together and falling in to each other in a way that could only be considered romantic. 

And then he’d pulled you under. 

Having been born in to mafia power, this was normal for Karma. This life was one that he had lived as far back as he could remember. For you - having been trained to kill your own teacher or not - it was a whirlwind. 

Starting a romantic relationship with a man destined to be the next boss of his underground crew came with a slew of problems. From the way people sought to target you, to breaking up petty squabbles between his men. You were used to clever thinking, to outwitting your target - not sheer, forceful, and in your face violence. 

And so you adapted. 

By the end of the first month, Karma had taken his position as the head of the organization - and you, his loving girlfriend, became his right hand woman. By the end of the second, his men respected you as much as Karma himself. Not just as the boss’ woman, but as a boss all in your own right. You commanded order and respect from his subordinates wherever you went, and they would bend a knee if you so much as gave them a look. By the end of the fourth, Karma was entrusting you with groups of men that you commanded - your own little faction to do with as you pleased. By the end of the sixth, you were leading full operations on your own, coming home to Karma - proud, and more than slightly aroused, leading you to your shared bed for an almost volatile romp between the sheets. 

By the end of your first year, you may as well have grown up in the scene. 

Karma had been there the first few months. Teaching you, watching you grow, unable to deny just how attractive it was when you had dozens of grown men bowing under your command as you barked orders. 

He had proposed to you shortly after your twentieth birthday - something that surprised both you and his men. Karma hadn’t struck you as the type to settle down, but he’d done everything by the book. A quiet space, just the two of you. Down on one knee, your hand in his, telling you that he loved you (something he kept for only special occasions when other words couldn’t describe). 

Once you had a ring on your finger, his possessiveness only grew. You were  _ his  _ fiancee. His little pet. So the idea of you going on this particular mission with him was...less than exciting. 

Breathing through his nose, Karma frowned, folding his arms across his chest. He’s dressed up in a fitted black suit, the jacket undone. A dark grey waistcoat is pressed over a crisp white shirt, tucked in to black slacks, a yellow tie matching the shimmering gold of your dress. “Must you go with me?” He asks, eyeing the slinky gold dress, clinging to your frame. “I could find someone else. You don’t have to do this.” 

You roll your eyes, smoothing your hands over the dress and looking at yourself in the mirror, turning side to side to admire the fit. “I’m not letting some other woman pretend to be your fiancee when your real one is right here. If anyone is going to hang on you all night and have your eyes on them, it’s going to be  _ me.  _ No one else.” 

Karma’s lips flicker briefly in to a short smirk. “Someone’s feeling a mite possessive, aren’t they, my little pet?” He coos, and you flip him off to the sound of his laughter. “I suppose I just don’t like the idea of some other man touching what belongs to  _ me.”  _ Karma replies, unfolding his arms - if only so he can stuff his hands into his pockets. “You belong to me, after all. That ring on your finger is proof of that.” He gestures to the glint of gold sitting snugly around your ring finger. 

“I don’t have your last name, yet. So the only claim you have is in word only.” You hum. 

He raises a brow, striding towards you in almost predatory steps, and you know you’re going to have to grapple for your backbone when he grasps your chin in his fingers. Lifting you to face him, he dips down, lips pressing hard and fierce against yours. “ _ Mine.” _ He growls, and presses his fingers in to your cheeks. “I have laid claim to every inch of your body, love. Or have you forgotten the way you cry out for me? How easily I can make you cum? The way you moan and scream and beg for more of my cock when I’m balls deep inside of you, making you my little bitch?” 

You suck in a breath, and the smirk on his lips turns feral. “You know very well that you belong to me, darling. Don’t play games, unless you  _ want  _ to lose our target. Am I understood?” 

“....Yes, sir.” You swallow, and he smiles, kisses you once more - softly, this time - and pulls away with a gentle little pat to your cheek. 

“There’s a good girl. Now hurry and get ready, won’t you? We need to be in the car in half an hour.” Karma turns on his heel, and he’s breezing from the door before you even have the chance to respond. It’s only when he’s gone that you growl to yourself, patting your hands against your cheeks with a soft clap. 

“Come on! Not gonna let  _ Karma  _ one up me.” You tell your reflection in the mirror. “I have dozens of men ready to lay down their lives at my command. I will not let  _ Karma Akabane  _ push me around.” Taking a deep breath, you reach down to slip in to your heels, checking your makeup in the mirror one last time before slipping from the room. You pass by a few of your men on the way down to the hotel’s garage - having traveled to Tuscany for this event - each one greeting you with a respectful “Hello, ma’am” or an “Evening, miss”. 

One of them meets you outside the garage, and he smiles, holding his arm out for you to take. “You look lovely tonight, ma’am. The boss is a lucky man.” 

“You’re sweet, Akina.” You grin, looping your arm through his. “Are you coming with us tonight?” 

“No, ma’am. Karma insisted on it just being the two of you. Something about how other people would just get in the way.” He pauses, then smiles at you from the corner of his eye, stopping just outside the passenger door of a sleek blue car. “Which I take to mean, you look stunning and he doesn’t want any of us looking at you when you’re all dolled up like this.” 

You smirk, and Akina pulls at the door handle, opening it for you as you step towards it. Your heels clack on the pavement, and you wink as you set your hand atop the edge of the door for support, leaning over to take a seat. “Probably.” 

Akina laughs as you swing your legs up and out of the way, closing the door behind you. Next to you, Karma is frowning, watching out the window for a moment, giving you just enough time to buckle in before peeling away with a screech of tires. 

Back when Karma had first been courting you, you’d find yourself afraid of his high speeds, weaving through traffic like life itself was a race - and he was  _ winning.  _ Now, you thrived off of it, leaning back in your seat to watch the citylife whizz by in a blur of coloured lights against the dark backdrop of shadowed buildings. 

“...You looked cozy, back there.” Karma finally says, and you hum, lifting your head from where it had been resting against the window, looking at him questioningly. “With Akira, or whatever his name is.”

“...First of it, it’s Akina. You know that, because you’re the one who suggested him as my assistant. Second, are you jealous, Karma Akabane?” 

He laughs aloud, like the very thought is absurd. “Oh, my pet. You know that’s not it.” He replies. “You just seemed to be having a good time. I was merely commenting on it.” Karma waves a hand flippantly. “Who you do or don’t have lingering affections for is none of my business.” 

You frown. “...Pull over.” 

“I beg your pardon?”

“Pull over. You’re being dumb and I want to talk.” 

“Wh- I refuse! We have to make it to this gala!” Karma argues, taking his eyes off the road only for a scant second to glance in your direction. They’re almost sparking, molten mercury and you know that he has some shit he needs to work out. He’s never been one to talk about his feelings, but dammit, you were nothing if not tough. 

“Karma. Pull over.” 

He ignores you, this time, and you can feel the car pick up speed a little as he presses his foot down a little harder against the pedal. Frowning, you spot an empty parking lot just up ahead, mostly dark apart from the street lamps lining the sidewalk next to it. It’s sitting outside an abandoned grocery store, one that the city hasn’t yet torn down - a perfect place to have your little chat. 

In a flash, you reach out to the side, the rings on your fingers glinting in the light of passing cars and overhead lights as you curl your fingers around the wheel. With a hard tug, you swerve the entire car to the right. You can hear the screeching of tires as the people behind you brake hard, laying on their horns as you cut across two lanes of traffic. 

Karma just manages to get things under control, and you find that he pulls in to the very lot you had been eyeing, tucking the two of you in a dim, secluded corner. His movements are measured and careful, but you see the tense set of his sharp jaw, the white of his knuckles around the wheel as he reaches for the key in the ignition, shutting the car off. 

Finally, he’s turning to you, eyes dangerous, burning with anger as a hand flashes forward, grasping hard around your jaw, fingers pressing in to your cheeks. “What the fuck was that?” He snaps, and you glare, reaching up to smack his hand away. He grasps at yours, and you can feel him roll your engagement ring around your finger, his lips pursed as he eyes it for a moment. 

“I told you to pull over.” You tell him. “You didn’t listen to me. We have plenty of time to make it to the gala, we already know who we’re looking for anyways.” You turn your hand over, palm facing upward, and part your fingers. He takes the hint, carefully, slowly, sliding his hand over yours and lacing your fingers with a heavy sigh. 

“Well, you got your wish. Nearly at the expense of our lives, mind you.” 

“It got your attention.” You shrug, and Karma smirks for a moment, glancing to the side as though to try and hide his amusement from you. 

It doesn’t work - you know him too well, by this point. 

“What are you so jealous for?” You continue, and his shoulders go stiff, jaw set again as he continues to face away from you, staring out the front window at the crumbling brick wall of the abandoned store in front of you, as though the chipped paint slapped over it had wronged him in some way. “Answer me, Karma.” 

He whirls on you, the buckle of his seat belt clicking as he all but throws it off, yanking up the armrest as he reaches down for the lever under his seat, sliding back and away from the steering wheel. It’s only a moment before his hands are on you, grasping under your arms to all but haul you over the center console. 

With a squeak, you struggle to get your dress out of the way in time, one leg bare up to your hip as the slit parts around the length of your thigh. He doesn’t let you complain - doesn’t let you  _ breath.  _ A hand grasps at your throat, yanking you forward as he surges up, and your lips meet in a fiery clash of tongue and heat. You can feel his hands roaming your body, fingers curling in to the flashy gold material of your dress, and he breaks the kiss if only to bury his face in your shoulder, biting down with those sharp teeth pricking in to your skin. “If we weren’t going to this fucking gala I’d have torn this damn thing off you by now. Let you sit in the passenger seat naked the whole way home.” Karma snarls. 

He says it, in the moment - but you know he wouldn’t. Your fiance would fuss over you in his own way, probably giving you his jacket to button up around your chest, taking care to avoid traffic and main roads on the way back home. 

Karma was a lot of things, but he loved you - and he showed you it in his own special way. While you’d heard whispers, people wondering if you were really alright with the way things were, with  _ him  _ as your lover, you knew they didn’t know him the way you did. 

He was the love of your life. Your other half. Your soulmate. And while Karma didn’t express his feelings and sentiments in the same way, he never made you feel like the feeling wasn’t mutual. He never let you second guess his love for you. Sadistic, dangerous, a born and bred killer he may be - but a half hearted lover he was not. 

You’re distracted from your thoughts by the feel of his lips against the expanse of your chest, kissing - wet and heady - down between the extreme plunging V of your neckline. His fingers reach under the sides of your dress, skimming against the areola of your breasts, before gliding back up along the material and behind your neck. 

The wet heat of his tongue meets your flesh, dragging a broad stripe up and over your collar bone, your neck, over to your jaw, where he drags his teeth in a dominant display, chuckle low and dark against your ear. Behind your neck, his fingers find the clasp of your halter top dress, flicking it loose and letting it fall, loose and free, over your front. 

Without the support of the dress, your breasts bounce freely, heavy and round, and his hands are on them before you have a chance to truly process what he’s done. The gratification as he swipes his thumbs over your nipples has you clenching in anticipation, gritting your teeth as you throw your head back, blinking up at the soft black interior of the car’s ceiling. 

A feeling of satisfaction trills pleasantly in your gut, racing out to every point in your body with a myriad of tingles, hot mouth descending on your left breast with a sloppy, wet sucking noise. The  _ pull  _ of your nipple in to his mouth both sets your nerve endings aflame, even as it sends a raw, almost agonizing prickle along your skin. 

Your fingers find purchase on his shoulders, digging through the thick material of his blazer as you grip hard to the toned muscle, a quick jerk of your hips grinding the thin material of your panties over the buckle of his belt. An icy cold trill races up your spine, and you pull away sharply - only for Karma to grasp hard at the deposit of fat above your hip, digging in your skin and forcing you back down and against him. The shock of cold slowly gives way for a pleasant grind, the metal rubbing over your clit each time he forces you up against him. 

Sliding your hands up, you grip the back of his head, holding him close to your chest as you all but sob his name in to his ear, toes curling in your heels, damp panties beginning to stick to your cunt. The constant grind of his belt has wedged the material up between the lips of your cunt, and he reaches down with his free hand, grasping a handful of the material and tugging it up hard. It grinds sharply in to your clit - the most exquisite kind of torture as he bobs it over the most sensitive part of your anatomy, more than eight thousand nerve endings alight at the sensuous agony. 

“Karma-” You’re hugging his head to your breast, hips rising and falling - running away from the debauchery between your spread thighs, but always returning again in a lewd, eager display as you search for the delirium he delivers in earnest pleasure. He chuckles, grips a little tighter to your hip and forces you to stay put. 

“What’s wrong, my little pet? You don’t like when I play with that sensitive little pussy of yours? But you’re always so wet for me….I don’t even have to  _ do  _ anything. I just say a few words, give you a few kisses…” He moves his lips up from your breast, brushing them over your chin, teeth scraping over your skin before catching your lower lip, sharp canines digging into the plump flesh. 

You shiver in his arms, and he laughs. “You’re such a good girl for me, you know?” Karma lets go of your panties, using his now free hand to instead fiddle with the buckle of his belt. Deft fingers pop the buckle with ease, undoing the zip and shoving his pants down. The hand on your hip pushes at you, and you rise to your knees, letting him move his pants and briefs out of the way to free his semi hard cock. 

It twitches in the cool air of the car - the temperature rising slowly the longer the AC remains off, your panting breaths help heat things up. You’d never before been so glad that it was early fall. Had it been the middle of summer, even late at night, the sweltering heat would have been unbearable. You always enjoyed his sweaty body pressed up against yours, but not like that. 

The heat of his bare thighs squishes perfectly against yours, his body slotting between your legs like two missing pieces of a much bigger puzzle. Karma’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in to him, mouth hot and hard against your own. The kiss he leaves is forceful, desperate, and covetous. He’s  _ claiming  _ you, not just with the kiss, but his touch, his fingers coiling tight in to the back of your dress and shoving it down past the small of your back. 

A shiver races up your spine, greedy, calloused fingers gliding along your body, squeezing hard at your breasts, feeling the weight of them in his palms, the flesh squishing between his fingers, spilling through the parts between them. They don’t linger long, parting with a flick to both nipples before skating down your back, dipping in to the dress hanging low around your hips to grab two handfuls of your ass. 

Karma’s mouth remains locked to yours, hot and hard, swallowing every breath, stealing the air from your lungs and returning to you his own - making every part of you, inside and out, his own. There’s a pull, in his kiss. Some kind of emotional connection, rolling empathic feelings between the two of you. 

You’re glad that he moved his clothes out of the way, because you can feel the slick drip of your juices between your thighs, sticking to his legs and coating them in your fluids. He doesn’t seem to mind - if anything, he encourages it, sliding one hand down between your legs, blunt nails flicking against your clit. 

The sudden pleasure has you gasping, and you jerk, back arching in to his chest as you rip away from the kiss. Thin trails of saliva follow you, arching upward as you yank back, breaking and dropping, catching the barest hint of light from the street lamp several yards away. Karma made it a habit to own, for the most part, sleek, dark cars - and the deep blue of this one was coming in clutch as it masked you from the traffic at the far entrance of the parking lot. 

Reaching up, Karma once more grasps your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look down at him. His eyes are sharp, catching the refracting light through the windshield, kiss swollen lips pulled in to a smirk. “You look so fucking pretty like this, my little pet.” He coos, spreading the lips of your cunt with his index and ring finger - using the middle to tease your clit. “Dripping, soaked, aching for my fingers, for my  _ cock.  _ Cute little cunt overflowing against my fingers...I wonder what would happen if I just... **shove them in.** ” 

Immediately, two fingers plunge in to your depths, his knuckles bumping against the folds of your sopping pussy, skin slick and soft and sliding oh so smoothly against his fingers. He laughs at the surprised shriek you let out, gripping harder against your chin as your entire body jerks, head reflexively trying to fall backwards. 

“Oh, no. No, you’re going to look at me. You’re going to look me in the eyes as I make you fall apart on my fingers like a slutty little toy, and maybe  _ then  _ you’ll remember who the fuck you belong to, hm?” 

Ah, you knew he was jealous~ 

“If you’re a particularly good girl for me, maybe I’ll even give you the honor of riding my hard cock, instead of servicing it like a cheap whore.” He coos, and you laugh, reaching forward to tug at the back of his hair, pulling him towards your face. For a moment, he shows surprise at your actions, but it hardens quickly, and his lips shift in to a dangerous, feral grin. “Cute, you want to play?” 

“Tough talk from a guy who hasn’t made me cum yet.” 

Karma blinks, then laughs, forcing his thumb hard against your clit and laughing that much harder when you squeal. “You’re always so much fun to break. As tough as you can be - ordering around my men, merciless against your target, looking for all the world like you’re unbothered by the senseless violence and the killings - you and I both know what you’re  _ really  _ like.” 

He rolls his thumb at the same time he spreads his fingers wide within your hole, an almost boyish giggle rumbling from his throat as you choke out a moan, hand falling from his hair to grab at his shoulder again. “You’re my little bitch. Ready to get on her knees at any time to service me with that pretty little mouth of yours.” He surges forward, kissing you hard for a brief moment and letting out a heavy breath against your lips. “And oh, what a wonderful fucking mouth it is.” 

Shifting the hand on your chin ever so slightly, he runs his thumb along the plump of your lower lip. “A bonus that it’s connected to my favourite person, mm?” 

Even during his harsh moments, Karma has come to show you his care, his love, in his own, side remarks - and you see it for exactly what it is. “Mm, that’s a good girl.” He coos, and you can hear the slick squelches between your thighs picking up in speed and intensity, his fingers fucking in to your hard enough for your vision to stutter. Laughing, he releases your chin, if only so he can stick two fingers in your mouth, pressing them against your tongue, holding your lips open. 

Your gasps and cries take on a fucked out, lewder sound - unable to form noises the same with your tongue slavering over his fingers like it’s his cock. He grins, something dangerous, and if you didn’t know him the way you did, almost unhinged. “Go on then, my pretty little slut. I can see it in your eyes. Feel you clenching around my fingers. I can  _ hear  _ it. You think I don’t know you by now? I’ve ravaged that gorgeous fucking body of yours enough to know your signs, dove. Now stop being a fucking brat and holding back, and  _ cum  _ for me.” 

Karma punctuates the word with a hard thrust between your thighs, flicking under the hood of your clit with the blunt nail of his thumb. His fingers remain pressed down against your tongue, and you can feel your drool dripping from the corner of your mouth, leaking down your chin, eyes watering as intense pleasure ricochets from head to toe, spiraling out in delectable waves of torturous severity from your puddling cunt. 

His fingers shift to grab at your tongue, holding it from your mouth and giving you that same, wicked sharp smirk, eyes glinting with equal measures lust and the sheer desire to watch you  _ crumble  _ like the ruins of Ancient Rome under his curated, ravenous touches. For another moment, you try to hold on - you really do. But between the way he’s looking at you, cooing filthy words, and his fingers between your thighs - drenched, dripping, utterly soaked in the copious amount of slick stringing from your pussy, you can’t hold on for long. 

With a warbled, slurred cry of his name (“K-Kha-ma-!”) you cum rivers on his fingers. His smile widens, both pleased and slightly surprised by the near deluge from between your legs, lips parted as his laughs and baring those sharp canines as he does. “Oh, you fucking came  _ buckets! _ ” He cries, utterly delighted. “Look at you!” He lets go of your tongue, twisting one of your nipples between spit soaked fingers and grinning widely when you shriek in response, every nerve of your body alight with fire, sensitive even to the air against your skin. “What got you so riled up, hmm?” Karma hums. “Was it the location? Do you like fucking in the car? Or,” his eyes narrow in a sharp downturn, lips curled in an all too knowing smirk as his gaze flickers briefly to the road, just off in the distance, “do you like knowing that if someone stops and stares  _ juuustt  _ hard enough... they’ll see you squirming and moaning like a bitch in heat on my fingers.” 

It’s not a question, and you know this - so you don’t deign to give one. It doesn’t matter to Karma, who’s setting both hands on your hips, throwing one side of your dress up and out of the way so he can see the both of you, bare, your spread thighs parting the lips of your pussy. “After that, I suppose I have no choice but to reward you with my cock.” 

You shiver, your entire body crying out tiredly, desperately to please, please let it rest - but you know he’s not going to give you the chance, and instead wrap your arms around his neck, hiding your face in his shoulder with a resigned tremble of delirious pleasure. Karma strokes your spine slowly, the barest touch of his fingers ghosting over your skin, and presses a kiss to your bare shoulder. 

Reassuring, even when his words can’t. 

His hips cant, rolling up against you, dragging his cock through your slick folds and bumping the head of it against your clit. “Are you ready for me?” He hums, fingers gripping firmly at your ass as he hoists you up, positioning you just above his dick. It rubs pleasantly against your eager hole, muscles clenching around nothing but air in sheer anticipation of being stuffed full with his length. You nod, whining, and he tuts. “First….who do you belong to, my pet?” 

Blinking slowly, clearing the haze from your eyes, you look down at him and try to sort out an answer. Finally; “I guess Akina isn’t the right answer, huh?” 

Karma doesn’t appreciate the taunt. 

The corner of his lip twitches as he tries not to snarl, and then he’s pushing hard against your ass, slamming you down on his cock. It punches right up in to your gut, and you shriek, fingers scrabbling at his shoulders as you try to ground yourself back to reality. The thick plunge of his dick inside of you has your mind reeling, feeling like it’s stuffed with cotton, struggling to make heads or tails of  _ anything  _ right now. 

He doesn’t give you the time. 

Leaning back further in his seat, he scoots his ass forward, sets his feet firmly on the floor of the car, and, with both hands for leverage on your ass, begins a series of quick, sharp thrusts in to your yielding heat. Supple muscle trembles under you - in his thighs and the lower portion of his abdomen, peeking out from beneath the white dress shirt and the waistcoat that blocks the rest of his body from your view. 

If you didn’t know that it had to be a quick fuck, you’d have stripped him properly and worshipped the expanse of his chest with your lips and fingers, adding to the myriad of lip shaped bruises you knew already existed. His fingers curl in your ass, and you feel the bite of dull nails, the slight sting adding to the onslaught of pleasure, rocking you from head to toe. 

Karma always seems to know just how you want it, want  _ him,  _ and in this moment, he’s far too eager to give it to you. To show you who you  _ really  _ belong to. Who can make you feel this way, feel this perfect, this whole, this  _ loved _ \- even when he’s feeling like the way he’s acting is anything but. 

“Oooh, there you go~” He grins, mouthing at the swell of your breasts as he bounces you on his cock. “You’re really getting in to it now, huh? My dirty, filthy little slut. Do those cute little wails mean you want it harder? Faster? Or do you want me to pull you out of the car, bend you over the hood and fuck you there for the entire world to see?” 

You tighten around him at the idea - people watching you, watching Karma claim every inch of your body over, and over, and over again. Owning your body, marking it with his teeth, his lips, his cock and his cum. Working you to the edge again and again with little more than his fingers, knowing just where to touch, to tease, to elicit only the most visceral reactions from your trembling body. 

As observant as he was, no reaction of yours ever went unnoticed, undocumented. Always tucked away for later, something else to experiment with on a rainy day. You were a powerful woman. Strong, demanding, tough, a backbone that left you standing toe to toe on equal ground with him, and nothing turned him on more. 

But behind closed doors, you were his subservient little  _ bitch.  _ Eager to do anything he asked, to bend over backwards if it meant you got even a taste of his cock. For all your bravado, you were still his little pet, his cute girl who would moan and scream and cry and beg for him to stuff you full. 

He took great pleasure in knowing just how to make you fall apart, sometimes with little more than his words. 

Karma chuckles - but it’s breathless, a little trembly, and you manage to just pick up on it outside of the blood rushing in your ears. You didn’t get as far as you did, survive as long as you had, by not learning someone’s tells. And Karma’s trembling breath could only mean that he was close to his limit. 

What kind of good little pet would you be if you didn’t assist? 

Leaning forward, you wrap your arms around his neck, hips lifting and smacking down to his in an almost furious pace. Karma lets out a surprised little sound, but then he’s squeezing his arms tight around your middle, burying his scrunched up face in your shoulder as you rock yourself to completion atop his cock. It’s the bump and grind of his pelvis over your clit that does you in, and as you tighten hot, firm muscles around his length, he follows you with a sharp bite to your shoulder, stinging pain accompanying the grip of his teeth. 

The sounds you make when you cum are utterly silent - or at least, you can’t tell if they aren’t. Short of the ringing, the rushing in your ears, and the way he’s grabbing your face to look you in the eyes when he pumps you full, there’s nothing else in the world but him and those mercury eyes. 

For several long minutes, Karma holds you there, watching your face, watching your pupils shift as you regain control and sense of your faculties one by one. The first thing you’re aware of is his sticky cum dribbling from the red, abused folds of your pussy, no doubt smearing along the seat between his legs. 

A good thing that it’s leather, you suppose. 

Post sex Karma is vulnerable, soft, and only gets more so the more you sleep together. He’s lifting a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear, gaze searching yours for a moment. Finally, he drops a kiss to your shoulder, reaching back and between the seats to fiddle in a little storage compartment. 

He pulls out a bottle of water, unscrewing the cap and passing it to you as he slumps back in the seat, breathing relaxing as he stares at the ceiling. You’re almost chugging the water, throat rough and dry after the exercise. You stop about halfway through, though, and hold the rest out to him. 

Karma denies it, holding up a hand a moment and shaking his head. “I’m fine.” He tells you. “I’m made of tougher stuff than that.” 

You roll your eyes. “It’s not about that, Karma. You’re not weak for being thirsty after sex. It’s normal. Drink, or I’ll make you.” 

He raises a brow. “I’d like to see you try.” He tells you, but takes the bottle from your hands anyways, tilting it back as he brings it to his lips. His head tilts back, and you watch his fingers squeeze the bottle as he drinks, in an attempt to get  _ more  _ of it, that much faster. A few drops roll down from the corner of his mouth, and he wipes them away with a sigh as he empties the bottle. 

It goes back in the storage compartment to be thrown out later, and his hand returns, instead, with a few paper towels. Bunching your dress up about your waist, he reaches between the two of you, hissing as he pulls his softening cock from your depths. “What, are you always prepared for car sex?” You tease, and he nods as he carefully wipes between your thighs, sure to wick away any mess that he had left there. 

“Yes, I am.” He replies seriously, and you almost splutter in response. 

Clean, now, Karma eases you back over in to your seat, and you notice the gingerness in his touch. He’s calm, now, no trace of his earlier anger, and you observe him as he resets his seat and pulls the seatbelt over his chest. The two of you had been quick enough that you didn’t fog things up too badly, but he’s still blasting the air at the front window to clear it away, using his sleeve to wipe at his window. 

“Akina was awful close to you.” He finally tells you, and his lips twist in to a frown. “You belong to  _ me.  _ I own and supervise my entire group. My family has overseen them - overseen this  _ city,  _ for generations. I should be  _ revered,  _ not slighted like that. I hated the way he was touching you. I wanted to break every single one of his fingers. Rip off his nails and watch him scream.” 

Once upon a time, the talk may have made you uncomfortable, but you only roll your eyes as you watch Karma clean up his cock and the mess on his seat, tucking himself back in to his pants. “Stop being overdramatic.” You tell him, and he glares at you, reaching for your face, but you catch his wrist before he does - it hands in midair, and you raise a brow. “Akina was walking me to the car. Like a gentleman. He didn’t touch me funny, and we were laughing about how you’d probably kill all of my men if any one of them accompanied us to the gala tonight as backup. It was friendly. The only one I have eyes for, will  _ ever  _ have eyes for, is you.” 

His fingers twitch from where they hang uselessly in mid air, before he snatches his hand back, scoffing. “Yes, well. If you insist, I suppose I’ll have no choice but to believe you. Now, buckle up, lest we get a ticket.” 

“Like your driving isn’t enough to warrant citations.” You snort, buckling in regardless. You can feel the lack of tension in the air, now, and you know that, as lackadaisical as his words had been, that the issue was well and dealt with. 

Karma smirks, hand on the gear shift throwing the car in to drive, and you’re already bracing yourself by grabbing the handle above your door. “They’d have to catch me, first.” 

-

The valet opens your door when you and Karma roll to a stop outside the long, dark stone steps. Winding up to a first landing, the split in the middle, curving up and around either side of a small fountain, light refracting through beads of moisture as the mouth of said fountain spits out a steady stream in to the rippling water around it. The light comes from the front porch of the mansion. 

Well. Porch is a rather loose term. To be pedantic, it’s a sprawling entry-way, grandiose, pillared and looking for all the world like something out of an ancient greek temple. The pillars are long, tall, grooved designs sanded in to the columns that proudly display the portico. Their colour is less white and more of a sun bleached bronze, as though once upon a time, before age and wear, they’d been a warm golden brown. The pediment is the crowning jewel, though. Steepled, trimmed with a shining gold, glittering in the porch lights. 

Women are carved in to the stone - flowing clothing, braided hair pulled up atop their head and secured by jeweled circlets. Some are kneeling, crouched in the corners of the pediment, while others - holding goblets and plates of grapes and breads - lavish attention on a man who stands in the very middle, beneath the uppermost point of the gable. 

His arms are held out, as though blessing the people, almost in a mockery of the gods and goddesses that this particular pediment appeared to be designed after. Upon closer inspection, the man in the middle bears a striking resemblance to your target. 

Snorting, you loop your arm through Karma’s as he tosses the keys to the valet with a handful of bills, the young man bowing his head before slipping in to the car. “He’s kind of a tool, our target.” You mutter, and mercury eyes flash up to the pediment. 

He chuckles, setting his other arm over the one you’ve looped through his, holding you a little tighter as your heels click along the sleek stone steps. “What, you wouldn’t want to commission a piece to hang above your door so everyone can see how much of a wealthy prick you are?” He teases. 

You roll your eyes. “I’d think modelling my home after a pantheon was already telling enough. At least I know he’ll be easy enough to sink my claws in to.” You smile. “Worship him like a god, hm?”

Karma bristles next to you, the idea clearly still not sitting right with him. The breeze from the Italian countryside ruffles his hair, and between the strands, you see the sharp flashes of his eyes - dangerous, ready at a moment's notice to jump into the fray, and yet, calculating, planning, plotting. 

He never enters a job unprepared. 

“If he so much as lays a hand on you-”

“He’s going to have to, Karma. I won’t let it go far, you know that.” You assure him, and he closes his eyes, and sighs, giving the steward at the door a tight lipped smile before grabbing you by the arm and pulling you to the side. 

You come to a stop at the end of the portico, several feet off the ground, bronze stone fencing against your back. Karma sets his hands on either side of you against the smooth, polished stone, and the light of the moon reflects the Italian countryside in his eyes. You can almost make out the low valleys cascading further and further in to the distance, dotted with trees along the sprawling greenery, in the depths of his eyes. Off in the distance, there’s a thin, winding river, and a rocky path lined with a fence on either side. A large stone wall looms in the background, stairs built in to the side, leading up from the lows of the valley to the highs of the hill, upon which sits another beautiful estate, though less expansive and grand than the villa you’re about to be in. 

There are cows, somewhere behind you, and you can hear a soft mooing as most of them settle in for the night, a few calves earning a sharp swat from a tired mother's tail as they bound around the bovine, heavy with milk, awaiting the farmer in the morning. 

All this, you see in the span of a moment before Karma blinks, watching long lashes obscure his eyes - and the scenery - briefly from view. You’re distracted for a moment by the vines winding up the side of the villa, the river in the background  _ almost  _ lulling you in to a sense of security. Like this is  _ your  _ home. Living here with Karma, watching the morning fog roll out of the valley below, over the dips and divots, the hills and crevasses in the rolling countryside, as the sun slowly rises in the horizon. Your fiance at your back, his lips against your shoulder, arms around your waist - but then he’s grasping your face in his hands, in a much gentler way than in the car, and turning you to face him again. 

“I’m well aware of what we’re signing up for. Of what  _ you  _ are signing up for - although I wish you wouldn’t.” He doesn’t give you a chance to speak, already continuing. “If he goes too far, I don’t want you to hesitate. You know your training. We’ll get the information somewhere else.” 

“Now that doesn’t sound like you.” You tease, but he’s not smiling, lips pursed, jaw set and eyes hard. “Hey,” you soothe, reaching up to run your hand across his jaw, and, in a moment of uncharacteristic softness, Karma turns his head to kiss your palm, “I’ll be alright. I won’t let things go too far, you know me better than that, right?” You hum, and you watch his shoulders rise, taking a deep breath through his nose as his eyes close. 

For a moment, he simply stands there, letting your words sink in - and then he’s nodding, setting a hand on your waist, to guide you back to his side. “Of course…. _ cara mia. _ ” [1]  He winks, and you laugh. 

“That’s a little old school there, Karma.” 

“What can I say? I’m a classic romantic.” He teases in return. “Besides, you like it.” The heat you feel blooming out from your chest tells you that he’s correct, though you already know that. And  _ he  _ knows that, observant man that he is. “They’ll be able to tell we aren’t from around here,” he tells you, voice lowering the closer you get to the steward, “but they’ll appreciate us trying to speak in the local tongue, first. Make a good impression, so to speak.”

You rise to your tips toes for a moment, hand on his shoulder for balance as you kiss the shell of his ear. “ _ Certo.” _ _ [2] _ You whisper in response, delighted to see a shiver wrack his lithe frame, arm around your waist tightening just a smidgen more. 

“...I can see why you like it.” He relents, and you have to fight back a cheeky smile, because you’re already in front of the steward, who’s giving the both of you a slightly dubious look. ” _ Buonasera, _ ” he greets, ” _ Antonello Casalino, e lei è la mia fidanzata, Rosalva Lancia _ .” [3]  He says, gesturing to you. You don’t remember agreeing on fake names, but you manage to keep from giving him a side eyed frown, instead doing your best to look as young and in love as you possibly can. 

With Karma squeezing your waist, holding you flush to his side, it’s definitely not hard. 

The steward pauses, glancing the two of you over, before he finally nods, bowing just a little as he gestures with a sweeping arm to the large, rich oak doors in the stone walls of the villa. _“Da questa parte.”_ _[4]_ He tells you, and Karma smiles, giving you another squeeze in response. 

_ “Grazie.” _ _ [5’ _ He says, and you’re leaving the steward behind in a hurry as your love guides you past the large, towering columns of the portico and through the great front doors. As soon as they swing to a heavy close behind you, you breathe a sigh of relief, elbowing Karma lightly in the side. 

“You didn’t tell me we were using fake names.” 

“You should have assumed.” He hummed, shrugging with a smirk. Rolling your eyes, you part from him, looking around the foyer. In the distance, a man comes stumbling drunk out of a room - and the sounds of laughter and chatter accompany him as the door opens behind him. Grabbing the nearest flowerpot, he retches in to the soil, and you crinkle your nose in disgust. 

“Well, I guess that’s where our party is.” You roll your eyes, the two of you carefully giving the man a wide breadth as you move around him and to the ornate doors he had stumbled from. “Fashionably late, I guess.” You glance up at a large clock, hanging up on the wall above the grand entrance in the foyer, frowning. “We’re only fifteen minutes late.” 

“Must be a lightweight.” Karma waves it off, and tucks you back against his side as he pulls open the doors. Stepping to the side, he motions for you to enter first, and you give a little curtsy, doing just that. He’s behind you not a moment later, spreading his hand over the small of your back, the warmth tingling through the dress and against your skin. 

Your eyes scan the room - searching, first and foremost, for the layout. Always have a planned escape route if things go south. Always have the lay of the land, so to speak. Always know what you’re dealing with. 

The room stretches out widthwise in front of you, the doors you just came in about a third of the way down, towards the lower right corner. Across from you, floor to ceiling windows - thin and tall - are set in the stone walls, the Tuscany moon hanging high outside of the clean, clear glass. The windowpanes are ornate, you can see even from here - beautiful, looping golden designs that slowly spread out from the edge of the pane and move across the window in a myriad of twisting shapes. You’re not sure, but they look like vines, from here. 

On the other side of the room - painted white, with a rich mahogany trim - a swinging door opens, and a server walks out carrying a tray of little treats and pastries. So that much be the kitchen, then. Closer to you, on the right, is a winding staircase, parting about halfway up and curling up in a set of two around a curved landing on the second floor, overlooking the little ballroom. 

Standing at the top of it, hands on the rich red railing around the landing and staircase, stands a well groomed man. He wears a fitted three piece suit - a deep, gorgeous blue, matching the stunning shimmer of his eyes. Dark brown hair is slicked back, and his stubble is trimmed neatly. A pair of thin framed wire glasses sit perched upon a slightly crooked nose, and you get the feeling he’s not so much observing the raucous group as he is standing over them - quite literally. 

You recognize him, though - even with the slicked hair and the glasses sitting upon sun kissed skin, a stark match against the blue of his suit. You’d spent enough time looking at his picture the past few days as you went over your plan of attack with Karma. 

“Well, he sure he no interest in hiding, huh?” He says, grinning up at the man. Thankfully, you yank your fiance away before he can notice, tucking just out of sight of the stairs. 

“And neither do you, apparently.” You hiss, and he laughs, brushing a lock of hair from your face before sliding his fingers down your jaw, catching your chin. 

“I’m itching for a fight, my love.” He tells you, and you scowl, smacking his hand away. 

“You saw all the guards before we came here. We’ll be dead before we can so much as get close to him.” 

“You mean  _ you’ll  _ get close to him.” Karma says, sourly. 

For not the first time that night, you roll your eyes. “Are you seriously doing this again? You know that I belong to you.” You tell him, and his gaze softens just a little, before he smirks, nodding. 

“I suppose you do, don’t you. Well,  _ cara mia,” _ he coos, “perhaps you can prove it to me with a dance?” 

You’ve danced with him before. His shoulders were broad, firm, and always pleasant to feel rippling and twitching under your touch. As much as you’d like to make a move on the target, you know that it was a waste of time. Anyone who so much as got close to him might very well be gunned down. You knew the drill - shoot first, ask questions later. 

“A dance sounds good.” You agreed, following him to the dance floor. You heels click against the tilted floor - black and white with specks of gold - and Karma pulls you in to his arms, lingering near the stairs as he leads you in a slow box step. Your hand sits in one of his, the other on his shoulder, squeezing softly, as he pulls you close. His free hand finds your waist - though it doesn’t linger there long, drifting down just above your hips, gripping to the deposit of fat there with a crooked little smirk. 

You give him a look, knowing  _ exactly  _ what he’s playing at, and he begins leading you carefully through the dance. “What’s with that look?” He hums, leaning in a little closer to speak directly against your ear. “You don’t like me touching you?” He teases. Instead of responding, you glance over his shoulder, where your target is waiting. 

Erminia Marietti, a man who had been a thorn in your side for longer than you could remember. Frequently dipping in to your arms trade, ruining deals and interfering left and right. You hadn’t been able to put a name to the mysterious person that had been slowly ruining several of your trade relationships. 

And now, here he was, in front of you in the flesh. God, what you wouldn’t give to throttle him. 

Karma kisses your ear. “Can you try and lure him over here?” 

“Yeah, I think so.” You agree, and on your next turn around, you glance up at Erminia, glancing at him from beneath your lashes. He misses you entirely, and you allow yourself an irritated frown as your back turns to him, and Karma squeezes your waist. 

“Try again.” He tells you, and you take a slow breath, waiting until you’re facing Erminia once again. This time, he catches your gaze, and you give him a coquettish smirk, gaze hooding. For a moment, he simply stares at you, and Karma rubs a thumb over your hip as you turn back around again. “One more time.” He murmurs. “You have his attention.” 

There’s an edge in his voice, something sharp and tangible, and you  _ know  _ that he isn’t happy with what you have to do. But he knows that it must be done, and that you don’t have a choice in the matter. Nothing else will be able to lead you right to Erminia’s private study. You  _ need  _ the documents he has stashed away in there, if you want to have any hope of repairing your trade relations. 

Knowing that Erminia has been funnelling your arms in to his own group is a sobering thought - you’ll have to be careful if you don’t want to be lit up like the fourth of july. There’s no room for error, as both of your lives hang in the balance. 

You turn back around again, and find Erminia still staring at you, though when you give him another look again, he finally returns it with a smirk of his own, moving from the bannister and instead shifting to come slowly down the stairs. “He’s on his way.” You murmur, and Karma squeezes you tighter, licking his lips. 

“Be careful.” He tells you, finally, just before Erminia taps Karma’s shoulder. 

_ “Posso?” _ _ [6]  _ He asks, and Karma presses his lips together, giving you another long look. 

_ “Sì.”  _ He says, before stepping back. Erminia doesn’t bother sparing him a look, instead setting his hand directly on your hip, his fingers skimming past the dress and over the back against your skin. You jump a little, and smirks, squeezing your hip as he takes your hand. 

_ “Bounosera, tesoro.”  _ He hums, and you smile back in a tight lipped smile. 

_ “Bounosera, signor….?”  _

He laughs.  _ “Erminia Marietti, bella, e tu?”  _

You won’t be able to keep this up for long, as well versed as you like to think you are.  _ “Signora…”  _ What was your fake name again?  _ “Rosalva Lancia.”  _

Luckily, he takes this as a sign that you don’t speak the language well, and he laughs, continuing to carefully spin you around. “We can speak in english, if that would be easier for you. Are you not from around here?” He asks. 

“I came from...Canada.” You tell him. “My family has Italian roots.” You explain, and Erminia nods. 

“We are all across the globe, certainly. What brings you out here?” 

“Vacation.” You reply quickly. “With my fiance.” Shit. You hadn’t meant to tell him that. Instead of appearing put off, however, Erminia smirks. 

“A fiance, you say?” He pulls you closer, and you can smell the overpowering scent of his cologne - like he’d bathed in it that morning, doused his clothes. “And yet you were making eyes at me,  _ bella.”  _

You swallow down the bile as he trails his hand further over your back, cold rings pressing against your skin. “What happens in Italy stays in Italy?” You suggest, and Erminia laughs. 

“Is that your own rendition of Vegas?” He teases, and you offer a strained smile, shrugging. 

“Perhaps. Is it so wrong?” 

Erminia looks over the room, glancing around for a moment. Eventually, he looks up at a man near the door, standing there, watching, waiting, and he nods. The man nods back almost immediately, standing up a little straighter, and you squeak when Erminia claps his hand against your ass, leaning in to kiss your shoulder. “Let me show you something special,  _ cara mia. _ ” 

On your way up the stairs, Karma purses his lips together, fingers curled tightly in to fists, and watches you go. Your heels click against the shiny, tiled stairs, Erminia careful to assist you up the stairs as you go. You can feel the eyes of the room at your back, and you try hard not to flush, letting him lead you through the doors at the top of the stairs. 

As soon as they shut behind you, you feel stifled, overwhelmed, the sound of the party far away from you already. Erminia kneads your ass with one hand, and guides you down a long hallway, carpeted with a beautiful red rug, running down the entire length of the room. Sconces hang on the side of the walls, and it’s almost….gaudy. 

You’re led in to a room off the side - and lady luck must be on your side, because this is  _ right  _ where you need to be. You do your best to remain calm, and he lets go of you to walk over to a liquor cabinet on the far side of the room. Erminia pulls out two wine glasses and a brand new bottle, smiling at you and gesturing for you to come closer. Slowly, tentatively, you do so, watching him twist the cork and fill the glasses. 

He passes you one, and raises his as a toast. Erminia doesn’t say anything, just clinks his glass against yours with a low smirk. “Taste it.” He tells you. “It’s delicious. Tell me what you think.” 

Lifting the glass carefully to your lips, you linger just for a moment. It’s a brand new bottle, there’s no way he could have done anything to it, nor would he  _ know  _ what you’re there for. How could he? Taking a breath, you finally take a sip, and he smiles wider in response. “Well?” He asks again. “It’s from this little vineyard just down the road. It’s out back from my villa, on a cobblestone path. Beautiful gardens on either side…” He licks his lips. “You and I should go tomorrow, cara mia.” 

You have to resist a snort - the old timey endearment isn’t lost on you, but it doesn’t sound good coming from anyone but Karma. “Absolutely, Signor Marietti.” 

“Please.” He laughs. “Erminia is fine.” He reassures you, and sets an arm around your waist to hold you against his side. “Now…” He murmurs, setting down his glass and reaching for yours to do the same. Broad hands run up your arms, and you swallow thickly, eyes closing. “Such a beautiful girl...you know what we came up here for, no?” Erminia says, and brushes his lips across your jaw. “You and I need to get to know eachother, mm? What better than the most  _ intimate  _ of ways…” 

His lips are moving down your throat, over your collar bone, and you’re looking for some way to stop things before they get  _ too  _ far - but it seems like you don’t have to worry. 

The sharp sounds of gunfire break out downstairs, and Erminia jerks away from you. His eyes widen, and then he looks back at you, before sneering.  _ “Cozza.”  _ He curses. “Stay put. I’ll be back for you when I fix this.” He tells you, and then he runs from the room. 

As soon as he’s gone, you’re diving behind his desk, pulling open the drawers to rifle through the papers and pamphlets there. Downstairs, gunfire continues to ricochet, and you curse, fumbling to move a little bit faster. You leave the desk, rooting through his bookshelf, instead. You shove books down to the floor, pulling papers and files loose as you fumble through the them. 

You’re panicking, now, footsteps getting closer, and you press your lips together, looking up at the door. “Shit.” You curse, moving to the next bookshelf. Fumbling through the files, you  _ finally  _ come across the papers you need - but before you can stuff them down your dress, the door flies open. 

“I’m sorry-!” You sigh, dropping your shoulders in relief when Karma stands in the doorway, giving you an amused smile. “Fuck you, Karma.” 

“Again? If you insist. Perhaps later, though.” He coos. “Are you ready to go?” 

“Ready if you are.” You nod, stuffing the papers in to your dress, hooking them by the strap on your waist and running after your fiance and out the door. “What the hell did you do?” You ask, yelling over the sound of the gunfire downstairs. Karma grins, feral, dangerous and wild. He’s  _ excited,  _ you know the look well. He’s having fun. 

“It’s more like what  _ didn’t  _ I do.” He replies, and you open your mouth to speak - only to yelp, grab Karma by the arm, and yank him to the side just as a bullet whizzes past his ear. You’re already tearing at the side of your dress to rip another slit in the side, clearing the way for you to grab the pistol strapped to your thigh. 

The gunman at the end of the hallway doesn’t have a chance to aim again, as you’re already lifting your gun, aiming right down the hall, pulling the trigger without hesitation. It rips through the air, tearing through his chest before he can even return fire. 

“...It’s always rather sexy when you do that.” Karma says after a moment, and you roll your eyes, tugging at his arm and running for the stairs. 

“Cool, you can rail me when we’re out of here.” 

Just before you reach the stairs, another gunman blocks your way, loading his weapon and aiming down the sights directly at you. Karma doesn’t stop running - instead, he grabs your arm, tugging you down with him as he slides on the sides of his shoes, laughing as you curse when your heels snap from the action. 

Karma reaches behind him, pulling his own gun from the waistband of his pants, and from your position sliding just beneath the bullet headed for you, your lover raises his weapon right beneath the gunman’s jaw, firing off a quick shot and yanking you to your feet as he falls. The two of you leap over the fallen body, Karma steadying you as you wobble on broken heels. He curses, drops to a crouch and pulls a pocket knife from the side of his shoe, snapping through both your straps in half the time it would have taken you to unbuckle them yourself. 

Barefoot, now, you make for the sleek, polished marble stairs, lifting your dress to get it out of the way, holding it out of the way of your feet as you fly down the stairs. Karma is right next to you, gun drawn and nailing one of the men at the base of the stairs, skipping past you a few steps so that he can grab you by the waist, hoisting you up a little and helping you over the man on the floor. 

Gunfire is rapid around you, and you’re not sure who’s shooting at what or  _ where  _ for that matter. Everything is a mess, the drapery torn to shreds, the windows shattered with a ricochet of bullets, round marks on the walls from where they fired and lodged in to the stone. 

The one immaculate room has been almost shot to smithereens. There’s another bullet whizzing by your head, and Karma pulls you back just in time to get out of the way - it lodges itself hard in to the wall where you had once been standing. “This way.” Karma tells you, tugging at your arm. “Through the kitchen, I checked before I started shit.” He winks, and you’re tearing through the mess on the floor, doing your best to avoid shattered glass from the windows and wine glasses and plates that scatter the floor. You nick your foot on a shard, hissing as you stumble a little, but Karma is right there to grab your arm, tugging you a little closer to his side. 

He doesn’t let go of your hand, this time, guiding you through the bullets and the infighting as you twist and turn around Erminia’s men. 

One of them - a burly blonde, hair once slicked back and now a stringy mess around a shock of blue eyes - makes a lunge for you, clearly expecting you to be an easy target based on gender alone. What he  _ doesn’t  _ expect is for you to quickly duck out of the reaching grab of his arms. Giving a little hop to the side, you balance on your good foot, injured one raising as you drive your knee forward and up in to the blond’s stomach. 

With a grunt, he wraps his arms around himself, knees trembling. With him slouched in front of you, you grab in to his already messy hair, and draw back your leg once more. He seems to register what you’re about to do, because he opens his mouth to speak - but you’re already driving your knee forward in to his face, the hand in his hair yanking him in to the force of your blow. 

He drops like a stone, both hands coming up to cover his face, blood pouring and dripping between his fingers from his now broken nose. Karma takes a brief moment to grab at your arm and pull you in to a short, fierce kiss, eyes flashing almost crimson in the lighting, the flashes from guns and bullets flying around you. 

Karma did always like it when you managed to hold your own. 

“Turns out his men are as prideful as he is.” Karma laughs, letting go of your hand for a second so that he can instead prop himself on one foot, delivering a swift roundhouse kick to the jaw of a man that dared to get in to your way. “If you drop a few little rumours, well….” He shrugged, winking, as he pulled you along once again. 

Just as you manage to break through the doors and away from the chaos, you’re grabbed round the middle, a sharp prick against your cheek as the cold steel of a blade cuts against your skin. Hissing, you elbow your captor hard in the stomach, fingers reaching up for his wrist. 

Twisting, you bend it over your shoulder to hold it in place, before yanking it down hard to snap it over your knee with a sickening crack. Your assailant howls in pain, and Karma watches him for a moment, before smiling slowly, cocking his head to the side and stalking slowly over to the two of you. 

Bending down, he lifts the now discarded blade slowly, flipping it a few times in his hand - tossing it in the air and catching it in long fingers. “Mmm,” he begins, and before the man has a chance to respond, Karma is planting his foot hard against his chest, sending him sprawling back to the kitchen floor, struggling to breathe and grasping at Karma’s foot with his unbroken arm. 

He has a scar wrapping around a tanned cheek and over his jaw, whiskey brown eyes - deep set, with hooded eyelids, and rich, thick auburn hair, unstyled and unruly. Another man that had been in your intel list. The right hand to Erminia himself, huh? And you had him on his back in less than an instant. “Erminia really should pick his men better.” You click your tongue, watching Karma contemplating just what to do with the man under his heel.

You’re frowning, wiping at the stinging cut on your cheek, blood dripping down from the wound and leaking slowly down your chin. Karma reaches out for you, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you in to his side. Leaning over, he maintains eye contact with the brunette on the floor, his tongue poking out with a feral smile as he drags it across your cheek. Blood beads against the tip of his tongue, and you close the eye closest to him, letting him do as he pleased. 

“You know,” Karma began, licking his lips, smearing a streak of red across his upper lip, “I like hurting my love. In a controlled setting, of course. She’s my little pet, and I do so love to make her scream. In pleasure, of course.” He smirked, lifting the blade to swipe his tongue along the bead of blood, still lingering at the sharp, glinting tip. “But you made her  _ bleed.”  _ He hums, cocking his head to the side. “ _ You _ made her hurt….not me? No, no, now that’s not okay…” He laughs. 

“That’s supposed to be  _ my  _ job, after all.” He flips the knife again, pressing his foot that much harder against the man’s chest as he leans over, crouching down and dragging the wicked curve of the blade over a tanned cheek. “I think I’m going to have to return the favour…. _ signor. _ ” 

Trembling beneath him, the man shakes his head, breathing picking up as best as it can with the pressure against his ribcage. “Should I start with your eyes?” He slides the blade up along his cheek, hovering it just above wide, brown eyes. “Or maybe your tongue? Or perhaps…” He pulls the man by his broken arm, and he cries out, throwing his head back with a hard crash to the tiled kitchen floor. 

“Maybe here?” He taps the blade against his fingers. “Without fingers...you won’t be able to play games like this again, hmm~?” Karma cooed. “In fact, I think I will.” He slowly starts to press the blade in - but you grab his wrist, shaking your head. 

“Not now, Karma.” 

He stares at the man a moment longer. “He deserves it though, my pet. Look at what he’s done to you.” 

“We don’t have the time. Okay? Come on. We need to go or this has all been for nothing.” You urge. For a moment, you worry that Karma is going to continue ignoring you….but then he’s sighing through his nose, standing up and turning to leave - but not before thinking better of it, turning around and slamming the blade through your assailants hand straight to the hilt and through the floor. 

His screams accompany you out the building. 

There’s a roll of thunder overhead, and you look up to see dark storm clouds have moved in over the villa, thick, and heavy with the promise of a torrential downpour. No matter - you’ll be in Karma’s car and driving back to the hotel soon enough. You just need to  _ get  _ there, first. 

Upon your exit from the servant’s entrance, you find yourself standing in the back of the villa, a large, stone pavilion looming almost forebodingly off in the distance, lightning crackling behind it. Something about it feels almost like foreshadowing, and you can only hope that your hunch is wrong as you and Karma make for the booth the valet was sitting in. 

The young man bolts as Karma bangs on the door, moving to lock it - but you pull your gun back out from the holster on your thigh, aiming it dead center through the hole in the glass. “ _ Non muoverti. _ _ [7] _ Don’t even think about it.” You tell him, firm - yet calm. “We just want our keys. You’re going to sit there, and you’re going to let my friend here get them. Okay?” 

He trembles, raising his arms slowly, nodding. “ _ S-Sì,  _ I-I mean...y-yes, ma’am.” He says, tears pooling in the corner of his eyes. You feel bad for him, but you need those key. 

“Hey, now. You’re alright. Everyone is going to be okay. I promise you.” You assure him. His shoulders relax just a little, but he still seems wary, and so you smile. “My name is Rosalva. What’s yours?” 

“...L-Luca, ma’am.” 

“Luca. It’s beautiful. A pleasure to meet you, Luca. I’m sorry you got caught up in this.” Behind him, you see Karma whip out his phone, swiping through and opening one of his apps. “We’re just going to get our keys, and then we’ll be out of your hair.” 

The valet - Luca, as you now know him, looks fearfully at you. “W-What’s going on? I-I heard the gunshots, so I came to hide, and I…” He’s breathing a little heavier, the mop of dark hair atop his head sticking to his skin as he perspirates from nerves. “I just want to go home.” He whimpers, and you smile softly. 

“You will, Luca. As soon as we find our keys.” 

Karma presses his thumb on his phone screen, and the app reacts to a device attached to your keys, beeping and flashing with a bright green LED light. He snatches them, stuffing his phone back in his pocket and moves for the door. “Got em, let’s go.” 

You give Luca another smile. “There. See? We’re all done, and we’re on our way. You should head home now, too.” You take a single step to the side, turning to leave - but Luca’s face dawns with horror, his eyes widening. It seems like slow motion, watching his entire body lurch as he tries to duck - and you’re not sure if it’s a gunshot or a crack of thunder overhead until you watch blood splatter the wall behind Luca, his body dropping to the floor with a sickening thump. 

For a moment, you stand there, eyes wide, gun only half drawn - having frozen in your movement to put it away. Luca’s body remains on the floor, unmoving, and you’re struck with a sick thought that maybe, maybe this is all a joke. You had no qualms with killing a man who came for you or the people you cared about, but Luca had been anything but. He was just a sweet young man, afraid, terrified of a world that he probably didn’t even know he had involved himself in. 

There’s a flash of lightning, and a few drops of rain start to fall. Next to you, you hear the cock of a gun, Karma coming to stand at your back, protecting you from an assailant that you hadn’t even seen coming. It’s silent between the two of them, the only noise your breathing, the heart beating in your chest, the rumbling of thunder getting closer and the rain pattering down just a little harder. 

In the window to the valet booth, you see a muddled reflection, smeared by darkness and rivulets of rainwater trickling in long trails down the smooth glass. 

And then the lightning flashes again. 

In that brief moment of light, of clarity, you see Erminia - winded, clothes rumbled, his beautiful suit nicked and torn. Blood dribbles down his arm and stains his sleeve from a cut on his shoulder, his hair a battle tousled mess. Lips are curled in to a sneer, eyes wild, dangerous, looking for all the world like a feral animal that had escaped from its cage. 

He’s training a gun at you - well, at Karma, who refuses to move from his spot in front of you, a literal shield against a man that clearly wants you dead. Slowly, you turn, meeting Erminia’s gaze from over Karma’s shoulder, the world a little more blurry, a little more obscured, as the rain patters down even harder, now, beginning to drench the stone around you, darkening and muddying its colours. “Why?” You ask, and the Italian rolls his eyes. 

“He was a valet,  _ Rosalva. _ ” You twitch just a little - the way he growls your name, fake or not, is almost terrifying. Almost, had you not had a gun trained on you before in situations quite like this one. “A dime a dozen. Maybe the next one I hire will do his job right.” 

_ “I just want to go home.” _

_ “You will, Luca.”  _

Your lips twist in to a sneer, and you’re beginning to step out from behind Karma when he shifts to the side, blocking your path. “You have the papers.” He murmurs, and takes one hand off the gun so he can reach slowly in to his pocket, pulling out the keys and pressing them back in to your hands. “Our arms trade is our main source of income. Without it, we’re lost. We can  _ not  _ let this job go wrong.” 

He doesn’t pull his eyes from Erminia. 

“Get the papers in the car. We need those safe. If the rain water makes them illegible, then we’re ruined.” He warns. “Be a good girl, my little pet.” Karma coos, and his lips curl in to a smirk, his back still straight and shoulders still set with an unwavering air of bravado, of confidence. He can handle this, he knows he can. “Go. I’ll cover for you.” 

Setting out a hand, you briefly squeeze at his upper arm, waiting just a moment longer before nodding. “Alright. Just let me get behind that row of cars to the right, I should be alright from there.” 

“I’ve got you.” Karma replies. “You can trust me.” 

It’s a moment of sweetness, and you smile, hand sliding from his shoulder, muscles in your legs starting to tense as you prepare to bolt. “I know, Karma. I do.” 

And then you’re off. 

As soon as you launch in to a sprint, the first gunshot goes off, but you refuse to look at who it was. Moving targets are much harder to hit than a stationary dolt who looked back over her shoulder at the first sound of gunfire. You’re just ducking, tucking and rolling behind the first row of cars when you hear a thud.

Briefly, you pause, ears straining to hear over the sound of the rain beginning to hammer down around you, from behind the safety of the cars. After a second, it’s followed up by a grunt, and the sound of a scuffle. But then you hear Karma’s laugh, and you relax, hunching over the papers down your dress to protect them from the rain as you move forward. The last thing you want to do is press the unlock button and alert Erminia of your whereabouts, so you keep it slow and quiet, shuffling up and down the rows of cars. 

There’s hundreds of them, though, and with the sky almost black, it’s almost impossible to read the license plates. 

Your saving grace comes in the form of a crack of lightning, and you pause, sucking in a breath. Three seconds later, thunder rumbles overhead, and the skies open up in torrents. Still, you remain perfectly still, hunched over the papers, gripping them with one arm as you watch the skies. 

Finally, there’s another flash of lightning, and you press the unlock button the remote, cheering silently as a muted flash of headlights just manages to shine through the rain in time with the lightning. 

Keeping low, you scurry across the space between the two rows of cars, quietly tugging open your door. When you pull the documents out, you’re quick to inspect them for damage, pleased to find that only the edges were a little damp. The rest was still legible, and still credible enough to ruin Erminia’s trade for the rest of his little gang’s history -whilst repairing broken bridges with your own trade groups. 

Carefully, you tuck it in the same compartment Karma had pulled the water bottle from earlier, along with the keys, before quietly letting the door swing to an ever so gentle close behind you. From here, you can no longer hear the sound of the fight between the two men, and, without the added worry of protecting Erminia’s incriminating documents, you move at a much faster pace to where they’d been last. 

Several cars from the end of the line, you hear a sharp crack and a paned gasp, followed by the heavy sound of some landing on the stone. Scurrying forward, you peek around the corner just in time to see Erminia set his foot on Karma’s chest, blood dripping steadily from a blunt wound just above your lover's brow. 

Karma grabs for Erminia’s leg, gritting his teeth as the brunette lifts his weapon, aiming it right down at the man beneath his foot. You don’t hesitate, pulling out your gun and firing a shot in the dark right for him. 

It misses, though you weren’t surprised - equal combinations nerves and poor conditions made for a bad shot, but it’s enough for Karma to shift, twisting, able to roll out from under his foot as Erminia stumbles back in surprise. 

You take this as your own opportunity, launching forward from around the car to tackle Erminia to the stone. Your gun skitters across the lot, sliding under the slew of cars and coming to a stop under...one of them, you’re not sure where, exactly. He grunts as his head knocks against the ground, but not enough to daze him, already fighting with you as he attempts to wrestle the muzzle of his gun to your face. Karma sits up, dazed, hissing in pain as the throbbing pain in his ankle shoots up to his thigh. 

“Your gun?!” You called, and he winces, rolling over to his elbows and knees as he prepares to slowly rise to his feet. 

“O-Out- of ammo!” He tells you, and you hiss, fingers grappling with Erminia’s hands, even as he tries to flip you with his hips. 

“Papers are in the car!” You call, unable to glance back at Karma as you struggle. “Pull it around the front. If i’m not there in a bit you take off without me.” 

He watches you a moment, licking his lips, but then nods. If that’s your request, he’s not going to deny you. “Alright. ...Be safe.” He finally tells you, and sets off down the lane you came from at a brisk limp to try and hunt down the car. 

You, meanwhile, are still grappling with Erminia, hair sticking to your face and shoulders as the skies continue to open up above you, letting loose a deluge of rain. Blinking, you squint, trying to fight and trying to stop the rain water from blurring your vision, from clinging to your lashes. 

He manages to flip the two of you, and you hit the stone lot with a grunt, ears ringing as the crown of your head cracks in to it. Erminia uses this opportunity, raising the muzzle of his pistol and aiming for your forehead. You don’t give him the chance, reaching up to grab at his wrist with both hands. 

You twist it painfully, nails digging in, and he accidentally fires a shot just above your head. You can feel the debris from the stone lot smatter against your hair, and you flinch, but don’t let go. Your nails dig in harder, pushing his hand as far from your face as you can, muscles straining and burning as they fight against his own. 

Blood drips from where your nails cut in to his skin, but you still don’t relent, using the newfound wounds to dig your nails in even more sharply, tugging back to rip the cuts open more. 

Erminia finally gasps, dropping the gun, and you scramble for it. He doesn’t let you get far, launching himself at you once again. Both of his hands grab one of your ankles, dragging you along the stone, even as you struggle to reach for the weapon just out of reach. Your fingers finally manage to touch the butt of the gun, but your frantic scrabbling succeeds only in knocking it further away, sliding somewhere behind one of the rows of cars, and you curse.

Without the use of a weapon, now, you turn on Erminia, struggling to see as the torrents of rain nearly blind you. God, you can’t fight him off like this. Neither of you will get anywhere. Down the other lane, you hear the screech of tires peeling around the villa, and you’re glad to know that Karma, at least, is alright. 

Pulling back your free foot, you scoot forward towards Erminia, hands beside your head as you push yourself up towards him, springing your body up as you kick straight and hard, bare foot cracking hard under his jaw. 

Erminia curses, crying out, and you feel a hot drop of blood on your foot as you finally pull away, a deep red leaking out from the corners of his lips, and when he sneers at you, his teeth are a disgusting, mottled red, soaked in blood from his tongue. 

He spits, looking at you, and takes a menacing step closer. Frantically, your eyes flit around the backyard of the villa, settling once again on the large, open air pavilion just a ways in the distance. You remember thinking how eerie it had been with the storm clouds behind it, you muse briefly. 

How fitting that it was your destination, now. 

Chancing one quick glance back at Erminia, you take off, listening to the heavy thuds of his once pristine, spit shined shoes, pounding against the stone as he tears after you. You’re smaller - but you’re faster, a little more athletic, dipping under high fences and leaping over low ones as you make your way over the cobblestone path and down to the looming building, growing larger and larger the closer you get. 

“ _Ti ucciderò per questo, puttana!”_ _[8]_ You hear Erminia shouting behind you, rolling your eyes as you pick up the pace. Your heart hammers in your throat, breathing heavy, chest burning, but you need to get out of the rain if you want _any_ chance of holding your own. One hand bunches your dress, holding it up and out of the way, already slinky material clinging to your skin. 

Finally, you’re bounding up white stone steps, coming to a stop in the middle of the pavilion. You can hear Erminia slow to a stop behind you as well, his own breathing jagged, eyes narrowed, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Wind whips through - chilly and piercing, and you shiver in your wet clothes, grabbing the back of your dress. Erminia watches you, seeming to have at least a  _ shred  _ of dignity as he lets you prepare. It doesn’t take you long, looping the back part of your split dress up between your legs, wrapping the other around your hips and tying it to the fabric between your thighs. 

With the long material out of the way, you ready yourself, wiping your hair back from your face, bouncing on your toes a little and lifting your arms in front of you. 

For a long moment, it’s quiet - and tense. Thunder booms overhead, rumbling and heavy, cracking loud and sharp as the pavilion shakes. 

And then he’s launching himself forward. 

First it’s his right fist, coming for your jaw. You block it with the back of your arm, knocking his hand away, skipping over to the left to avoid his other first aiming for your stomach. You bring your foot up, attempting to catch him in the side with the curve between your foot and your shin, but he grabs your ankle before you can. 

With a sharp twist, he jerks you around, an arm wrapping around your throat as he bends your leg up to an almost painful angle. 

Well, you’ve never been one to play fair. 

Turning to the side, you sink your teeth sharply in his arm, not stopping until you feel blood and he gasps, wrenching his arm away. 

Using the open opportunity, you drive your elbow back and up, knocking in to his throat. 

Erminia coughs, stumbling backwards. Another sharp forward kick with the flat of your foot has him slipping, back knocking against one of the pillars that holds up the roof of the pavilion - tall, stretching at least four times your height, a winding, beautiful pattern twisted around the white stone. 

Both of his hands come down to rest against the pillar behind him, ready to push himself up with the support of the column behind him, but your foot presses against his throat, hard and sharp. Erminia chokes out a sound, both hands coming to grab at your ankle. 

The blood on his fingers smears against your skin, up your calf as he grapples with you. Before he can regain his strength or his breath, you push your foot forward, and then drag it back with a sharp whipping motion of your leg. 

It drags Erminia from the pillar, sending him sprawling forward on the smooth stone floor. He appears to have recovered already, however, because he doesn’t stay there long. His hands catch his downward descent, and he redirects it as he springs forward, back on to his feet as he twists around to face you. 

One hand rubs at his throat, and this time, it’s you that attacks first. 

Trading blow for blow, the two of you appear almost to dance through the open air pavilion, your smaller body dodging and evading as he swings at you - easily over six and a half feet of pure, stocky muscle, hell bent on pummeling you in to the solid stone the two of you maneuver over.

In a fair fight, you wouldn’t stand a chance. But like you said - you’d never cared for playing fair. 

Keeping to the balls of your feet, you spring around his jabs, ducking and twirling beneath his hands, twisting out of the way. The heavy weight of your dress causes the knot to come unfurled, and the two pieces of your dress spin around your body with you, droplets of water flying from the edges of the material as they twist about your ankles. 

Footwork fast and sure, you continue to evade, searching for the right opening, the right move to make to bring this hulking beast of a man to his knees. 

From the side of your eye, you catch a glimpse of red - Karma, standing just outside the pavilion, his suit jacket and waistcoat shed as he stands in the rain, white shirt drenched, sticking to his lean body. You can catch patches of his skin, coloured through the now see through material. 

He’s reaching for something in his pocket, the other hand holding a gun, but you don’t bother to wait and see what he’s planning. Losing your focus against Erminia could very well mean your head plastered into the stone beneath your swift moving feet. 

You take a chance to clock your fist in to his jaw, and it works - but it doesn’t stagger him, and he returns it with a knee to your stomach. Gasping, you stumble back, just barely ducking out of the way of a hand that makes to grasp at your hair. 

Gritting your teeth, you go back on the defensive, evading, parrying where you can and knocking his own attacks away. Karma is still standing there, you notice, his gun drawn and both hands holding it tight, aiming down the pavilion at the two of you. For a moment, you wonder what’s taking him so long - and then you realize. 

_ He can’t take the shot.  _

If he did, there’s a very real chance he might hit you, instead. As odd as it sounds, the thought has you feeling a surge of love for your fiance. Years ago, long before you two were together, you know he wouldn’t have hesitated to take the shot. Were you anyone else, he wouldn’t have, either. 

It just went to show just how much you had come to mean to Karma over the years. You were indispensable, irreplaceable - not just as his right hand, but as his love, his fiancee, as the woman who would be taking his last name. 

Erminia swings for you again, and you lean back away from the blow, hands pressing in to the stone floor. Springing up, you arch your back and push in to a backwards flip, bare feet padding across the floor as you shuffle back a few steps - closer to Karma. He seems to know exactly what’s up, because he moves in a little closer, and you see him nod from the corner of your eye. 

Taking the chance, you dip under a grapple that Erminia tries to start, twisting around his back, dress twirling about your calves and clinging wetly to your legs. Grabbing him by the hair, you step forward, hooking one leg between his and around the front of his shin. Pushing forward on his head, you jerk your foot back, and he stumbles. 

With the momentum, you lean your entire weight in to his back, sending Erminia crashing forward to the stone floor. Your hand on his head drives his entire face in to the flooring, and you spring forward, just out of the way, as Karma takes up position where you had been before. 

Erminia doesn’t even bother to fight back - he knows, when the cool steel of the pistol's muzzle presses to his temple - that he’s lost. 

You watch Karma lean down to mutter something in his ear. You can hear him say your name, over the sound of the rain outside, and then, without an ounce of hesitation, he pulls the trigger. 

The death is swift - like Luca’s had been. 

Just thinking about the poor young valet has your stomach roiling, and you look away from Erminia so as not to be sick. You’d seen death, before. Many a time. Most often at your own hands. 

But something about the fear in Luca’s face, the way he had dropped like a stone,  _ “I just want to go home.” _

You shut your eyes tight. 

Karma is in front of you a moment later, safety on and gun tucked back in the waistband of his slacks. He doesn’t even hesitate when he reaches you. 

You’re drawn in to his arms, his hold fierce, tight, grasping at you, clinging to you like he’s the dress plastered to your body. His hands explore as he kisses you, his lips cold from rain, hands a sharp chill against your bare back as they run over your skin. The kiss starts off voracious, desperate, and insatiable - but it eases slowly in to something a little more gentle, a little more pliant. 

When he pulls away, he’s breathing heavy, and he rests his forehead to yours. “You scared me.” He admits, and you run a hand carefully over his cheek. 

“I’m sorry. This isn’t the first time I could’ve lost my life on the job, though, Karma.” 

He frowns, turns and kisses the heel of your hand. “I know. But it’s the first time I’ve seen it.” He’s right, you muse to yourself. This  _ is  _ the first time. Karma rarely accompanies you on your jobs, and vice versa. Both of you trust the other one to make the right calls and come home safely. 

Karma sighs through his nose, takes your hand and slowly leads you from the pavilion. “What about Erminia?” You ask, and he shrugs, lips curled in distaste. 

“His men will find him, I’m sure of it.” 

“...And what of his men? We were in the middle of a pretty chaotic shootout.” 

Karma shrugs again. “Who knows? They were quiet when I finally came to get you. Either they’re all dead or they’ve sorted everything out. It’s not my problem, anymore. Everything is dealt with.” 

You swallow, looking away. He seems….tense. Angry. 

“...I could’ve killed him for putting his hands on you.” He says quietly. You decide not to mention that he already did. “I was watching, you know. I followed you the second I got the chance. It’s why I started that stupid shootout in the first place.” 

“It isn’t like you to cause chaos on the job. You usually like it neat and clean.” 

“I didn’t like him touching you.” Karma says, jaw set. “I...lose my cool, when it comes to you.” He admits, whirling on you. The rain is still coming down in sheets, and you see the lightning crackle in his eyes - followed only seconds later by a loud crack of thunder overhead. “And I  _ hate  _ it. I hate that someone else so much control over me, and yet I  _ can’t  _ really hate it because it’s  _ you.”  _

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen Karma so... _ vulnerable.  _ Licking your lips, you open your mouth to speak - but he grabs your chin with the crook of his finger and his thumb, tugging you closer so he can scan your face, eyes flickering over yours, searching for…. _ something,  _ he just won’t tell you what. 

Whatever it is, he seems to find it, because his shoulders relax, settling low, and he breathes out slowly. “You are...an important part of my life.” He admits, corner of his lips twisting in to half a frown as he looks away. “To think of anyone else having you, in any way, shape, or form, makes me feel...wrong.” 

He finds your gaze again. 

“Do you understand what I mean?”

Nodding, you run your thumb over his lower lip, leaning up for a slow, soft kiss. “I do. I understand, Karma.” 

Your words must have the desired effect, for he’s stepping back from you a moment later and taking your hand. “Come, let’s head back to the hotel.” 

The walk back seems a lot farther now that you aren’t running for your life, and you’re briefly worried that someone from the villa might see you. There are still lights turned on, and you can briefly see people milling about in shadows through the windows, but Karma assures you that in the dark and through the utter deluge, none of them will see you. 

Sure enough, you make it back to the car without an issue, and he’s quick to crank the heat when you sit down on the leather, turning on the heated seats, as well. The car makes very little noise as he pulls from the villa and down through the gates again, turning on to a winding country road, that leads the two of you through the quiet countryside of Tuscany. It’s a slow drive, this time. You’re both quiet, but Karma takes your hand after a few minutes, and you can feel him rub his thumb over your knuckles as he drives in silence. You smile, but choose not to comment, instead reaching between the two of you with your other arm to pull out the documents you’d stolen from Erminia’s office. 

“You think it’ll be enough?” He finally asks, watching you thumb through the papers. 

“Without a doubt.” You assure him. “There’s everything in here. All the shit he tried to hide. Everything from the sabotaging of our trade deals to his own underhanded dealings, the wire taps planted on the dealers, the backhanded and under the table payments. He was playing the field, and it shows. Pretty little paper trail for us to exploit. I’ll set up some meetings with our contacts out here when we wake up tomorrow. With any luck, they’ll still want to speak with us, considering what we have.” 

Leaning back in to the seat, you sigh, the heat lulling you in to a sleepy state as the exhaustion slowly catches up to you. You force yourself to stay awake, though, not wanting to miss a second of his thumb carefully stroking your knuckles, and his quiet humming as you drive down the narrow streets of Castiglione. 

He doesn’t say anything more, after that - not until you park back in the underground garage beneath the hotel, and he’s telling you to stay put, even as he unbuckles. You raise a brow, but do as you’re told. A moment later, however, he’s come around to your side of the car, pulling open your door and reaching in for your buckle. 

Catching your amused gaze, his cheeks turn pink in a rare flush, and he glances away from your face as he picks you up, the documents still in your hands. “Akina walked you to the car and held your door open for you. I can’t let him one up me.” Karma sniffs, closing the door with a bump of his hip. 

Sliding one arm around his neck, you laugh in to his shoulder. “Are you still jealous?” You tease, and can feel his muscles tense beneath you. 

“I will always be jealous,” he admits truthfully, uncharacteristically, “of someone else showing my fiancee that they are better for her than I.” 

His shoes clack against the concrete floor as he carries you over to the door at the end of the lot. “Karma,” your voice is soft, a gentle, amused murmur as you run your hand over his cheek, “no one is better for you than me.” 

He maneuvers you to hold you carefully in one arm, the other opening the door before gripping you tightly again. “Well of course!” He agrees, his attitude seemingly beginning to return, “there is no one better than me in  _ general  _ after all. Well, I would suppose that you’re a very close second, my dear.” He says, and you can feel the lean muscles in his arms tense as he hoists you a little higher, careful as he carries you up the stairs to the elevator. Even when you’re inside, he doesn’t let you go. Outside the door to your room, when he has to hold you with one arm again to unlock the door and bring the both of you inside, he still doesn’t. 

It’s only when he brings the both of you in to the bathroom, setting you down on the counter, that he finally lets you out of his arms. “And what are you doing?” You ask, watching him bustle around to grab some towels, toeing off his soaked shoes and leaving them over the vent in hopes they’ll dry faster. 

Raising a brow, he glances at you over his shoulder, thin fingers deft as they undo his sticky white dress shirt, dropping it to the floor with a wet plop. “What does it look like I’m doing?” He asks, pulling open the glass shower door and reaching for the handle. He turns it about midway, closing the door again as he makes his way over to you. 

Karma looks you up and down, pressing his lips together as he eyes the bloodstains on your leg, the cut on your cheek, and the slice on your foot. Beneath the bathroom counter, he finds the first aid kit that he figured would be there, and cracks it open, much to your surprise. “Are you-”

“Taking care of you? Yes. Now do be still, I want to make sure there’s no more glass in your foot. It should be a clean cut, but we can never be too sure.” It’s stopped bleeding by now, and he uses an antiseptic wipe to clean away the dried blood - gingerly, carefully, not wanting to tug and aggravate the wound further. 

It’s not much more than a scratch, but you choose not to tell him that. Karma doting on you like this is...kind of nice. When he’s satisfied that it’s fine, he holds your foot carefully in his hand, pressing a kiss to the gentle curve of it. 

When he looks up at you, there’s something a little more greedy in his gaze, and, moving the front of your dress away from your thigh, continues to kiss his way up your leg. When he reaches your knee, he stops, gently massaging your calves. “Where did he touch you?” 

“I- What?” 

“Where did he touch you.” Karma repeats, less a question and more a demand. You pause, wracking your brain and trying to remember. 

“I-I….my waist, my shoulder, my arms, um….my face?” 

His gaze darkens. “Anywhere else?” 

Your cheeks flush, and you look away. “He grabbed my ass.” You mumble, and he hums, reaching up to slide both of his hands over your hips and up your waist. “Then I guess,  _ cara mia,”  _ he purrs, and you shiver at the soft, murmured Italian, “I’ll have to erase every last hint of his touch from your body, and replace it with my own.” 

Karma lifts the front of your ruined dress, and, plucking the knife from his pocket, flips it open. Your heart thuds in anticipation, lurching low in your throat, threatening to hop right out your mouth if you let it. 

He reaches up, presses the flat of the blade between your breasts, and smiles, enjoying the way you shiver at cool steel against your skin. “You always do seem to enjoy the more dangerous side of things.” He tells you, and bites the inside of your thigh. “Perhaps that’s why you and I get along so well, my pet~” 

The knife catches on the fabric of your torn dress, just beneath your breasts, and he reaches up with his free hand to pull it away from your body. Immediately, the knife cuts down in to the fabric, and you hear the slow tear as it passes down, down, down to the torn slit in your thigh. 

From there, it falls open, and all he has to say is “arms” for you to shrug out of the remainder, letting your breasts bounce free. Licking his lips, he trails the cool steel down over your hip, fisting the front of your panties and tugging them away from your body. 

Hooking the edge of his blade in to first the right side, then the left, he flicks away the bare minimum you had in resistance, and you’re already spreading your legs as he closes the pocket knife again, reaching over to set it up on the bathroom counter with a little  _ click  _ of finality. 

Pulling the panties away from your cunt, Karma runs both of his hands up your legs, watching the skin prickle with goosebumps under his touch. The shower is heating up, now, and the warmth of it warms the room, as well. Steam curls out from over the shower door, and you can already feel the thick heaviness of the air. 

Karma doesn’t ask for permission, and you don’t bother to give it. The way you part your thighs, draping them over his shoulders, is all the answer he needs. He dives in like it’s his first time eating your cunt. Sloppy, messy, already groaning in to your folds, slick with a hot bath o his saliva. 

Pleasure already begins to blanket you from head to toe, his tongue thirsty for all that you have to offer. Both of his hands reach under your legs so they can wrap around your thighs, his fingers digging in to plump skin as he forces your legs that much wider. The spread of your thighs parts the folds of your pussy, and he dives in with a newfound appetite, tip of his tongue zeroing in on your clit. 

When you squeal, he doesn’t laugh, this time - which is enough to let you know, even with your hazy mind, that what happened with Erminia was truly enough to really bother him. You just didn’t know it would be quite so much. 

Karma has always been a thorough lover. While he may tease you until you tear up, or leave you strung out, aching for his cock, playfully edging you in a myriad of ways, he never truly left you wanting. He knew exactly what buttons to push to have you cumming in mere moments, and he was  _ definitely  _ reaching for those buttons. 

His hands grip tighter to your thighs - hard, almost covetous, claiming as his, his,  _ only his.  _ Not Erminia’s, not Akina’s, no one else that looked at you with hungry eyes, a ravenous yearning held deep within their gaze. No, you would be like this for him. You would cum only for him. Moan only for him. The ring on your finger was proof of that, proof of your love, of your desire, the depths of it burning low and fierce in your very soul, reaching, searching, aching only for his. 

He swipes a flat stripe up the lips of your cunt, lashing through them and over your clit, which now stands out, pink and hard, from where it hid. Karma doesn’t give you time to recover from the attack, instead sucking it between plush lips, wet with your slick and his saliva, stringing, stranding and pulling between your thighs and his cheeks, your cunt and the tip of his tongue, hanging in a lewd display over his lips before he dives back in. 

You’re soaking, at this point, dripping a steady stream of your juices to the counter, stranding off from the edge in long rivulets and down to the bathroom floor. Still, Karma doesn’t stop. 

He moans between your legs, fingers pressing tighter, and you know that it’s going to bruise - but you can’t bring yourself to care. Groaning, he presses further, trying to sate his voracious, ravenous craving with your dripping cunt. 

Whatever it is that he’s looking for, he seems to find it in you, his breathing heavy, shaky, as your thighs quiver and shake, threatening to close around his head as your toes curl. You’re moaning, trembling, hands grasping at the edge of the counter for support as you start to roll your hips against his mouth.  _ “Questa è una brava ragazza.” _ _ [9]  _ He moans between your thighs, and you sob his name, ass plopping back down to the counter with a wet smack as you bury one hand in thick red locks. 

Karma looks up at you as you pull the hair back and away from his face, one eye close, his mouth against you and tongue slavering over your already soaked pussy. His nose is almost pressed against your pelvis, and he’s breathing heavily, refusing to move his gaze anywhere but your face. 

“ _ Toccarsi.” _ _ [10]  _ Karma mutters, muffled in your cunt, and you bite your lip, eyelids fluttering closed just for a moment as you raise a hand to your breast. “ _ Brava ragazza.”  _ He says again, and you keen loudly, squeezing hard at your chest, pinching and tugging at a nipple. 

This seems to be exactly what he wants, because he’s going back to focus on your cunt, his tongue dipping in to your tight little hole, lashing against your inner walls, his nose bumping your clit. His breath is hot, his fingers tight, teeth grazing your clit, and  _ “Vieni per me, tesoro mio.” _ _ [11] _

And so you do. 

Head thrown back, you can’t tell if the muffled sound is you screaming his name or not - not with the way your entire head seems to be swimming with pleasure, drowning under crashing waves. When you come to, he’s still sucking on your clit, and judging by the sensitive throb of your lower half, he already has been for a while. 

It’s with a sobbing cry of “no more-” that you cum a second time, soaking his face in a mess of your slick and his saliva. Your breath doesn’t return to you easily, nor do the white spots fade from your vision as quickly, a second time. When you can focus again, Karma is standing between your legs, an arm wrapped around your middle as he wipes his face with a towel. He catches you watching, and smirks, wiggling his tongue for you. 

“ _ Scusa, vuoi provarci?” _ _ [12]  _ He asks, and your only response is to wrap both hands around the back of his neck, pulling him down so you can meet his lips. For a moment, Karma blinks in surprise - but then he drops the towel and sets both of his hands on the counter next to your hips, leaning in to your kiss. 

Your tongue curls with his, parting just enough to breathe as you swap spit - and your flavour - back and forth. There was always something incredibly delicious about tasting yourself on Karma’s tongue. Just knowing that he had  _ pleased  _ you in that was was a rare treat, one that you didn’t take lightly. 

Both of his hands find your ass under the tattered remains of the dress you sit on, and he hoists you up just enough to move it out of the way before setting you back on your feet. The kiss is broken with a heady gasp, and, dazed, you look up at him, face hot,  _ body  _ hot, and eyes swimming with hundreds of feelings you can’t quite place. 

His hands find your hips, and he turns you around, grabbing one thigh to hoist it up. When he can reach your ankle, he props your foot up on the counter, stretching you out lewdly in front of the large mirror before you. You can see the abused inner folds of your cunt, and you swallow, quite aware of the rattle of his belt behind you. There’s a little shuffle as he removes his pants, but you don’t dare move - and in a moment, you see his head peek back up as he meets your gaze in the mirror. 

“Now, my dirty little girl…” Karma murmurs, coming to press up behind you. You can feel the hot, heavy throb of his cock against your ass, and you bite your lip, leaning back in to him for support. 

Karma chuckles. Reaching around to your front, he palms your breasts, leaving a kiss to your shoulder before resting his chin there, looking at you in the mirror again. “I want you to keep this,” and he taps the raised thigh lightly, “right where it is while I fuck you. If you can’t...I’ll just have to bring you to another orgasm. Do you think you can handle four in one night?” He teases. 

The idea alone has you shivering, a whine building low in the base of your throat, and he hums, smiling at you as he tweaks your nipples with calloused fingers. “Mmm, good girl.” He murmurs, gliding both hands down your body. 

One comes to rest on your hip, the other brushing over the curve of your ass so he can grasp his cock. He slaps it against your dripping folds a few times, cooing softly when you jolt - and then, without warning, slams every last inch right in to the leaking hole between your legs. 

You almost scream, throwing your back. Karma takes the chance to mouth at your neck, now free hand coming up to grasp over your throat. The fucking is hard, rough, and feral. There’s no teasing, no sadism, no taunting. It’s like back in the car - except this time, he has the room to do exactly at his wants. 

You are  _ his,  _ and he will claim you as such. 

Hips smack against your ass, echoing in the little bathroom, steam slowly starting to fog up the mirror. Even through the light film over your reflection, you can still see every inch of his cock, disappearing inside you and pulling back, slick with your juices, stranding off his length in long, curved strings, hanging low and breaking with the force of his hard thrusts in to your all too willing cunt. 

You can absolutely hear yourself, now, moaning, mewling, crying out his name like he’s your god and you’re nothing but a depraved sinner, seeking retribution in the way he took you. 

He’s moaning in your ear, deep, heavy, coming from the deep swell of his chest and rumbling over his lips like prayer. His fingers tighten around your throat, and you reach up to set your hand over his wrist, gasping, panting, meeting his gaze in the mirror again as his hips crash in to yours, repeatedly, over and over again. 

Up on your tip-toes, you stumble forward a little, till your hip knocks against the counter. Still, he doesn’t relent, driving his hips that much harder against your own. Quivering, you latch on to his wrist, meeting the burning mercury in the mirror. 

Karma doesn’t look away from you, from your gaze. He’s never been like this before - not as far as you could remember, anyways. Feral, desperate, more impassioned than you’ve seen him before. You would go so far as to venture that he was almost  _ feral.  _ Judging by the way he growls in your ear, biting at the shell of it and pulling you all the closer, you’re not that far off the mark. 

Your breathing is erratic, quivering little mewls echoing in the bathroom, bouncing off the walls of the tiny room. Heat builds low in your stomach, and you keen again, head falling back to rest against Karma’s shoulder. 

However, before you can reach orgasm, he’s pulling away, leaving you whining at the loss of contact. He doesn’t make you wait for him long, helping you bring your leg down, cramping just a little from being in a stiff position so long. He’s already guiding you to the shower, pulling open the door and all but pushing you in. 

Your breasts press against the glass, and he closes the door behind the two of you, already pressing, hot and hard, up against your back. “Give me your hands.” He murmurs, and you lift them, only for Karma to press them, palms flat, against the glass. His hips surge forward in a sharp clap against yours, sucking a droplet of water off your shoulder as his fingers spread between yours, lacing with them and gripping your hands tightly. 

The glass wall of the shower rattles a little in the pane, your body jerking up against it with each heavy slap of Karma’s hips against your ass. He’s gasping in to your shoulder, deep, masculine grunts as he lays claim to your body, inside and out. Fresh hickeys are sucked in to your shoulder and up your neck, leaving no doubt about who you belong to. 

Under the spray of the water, the last lingering smell of Erminia’s overpowering cologne is washed away, and your fiance buries his nose in your wet hair, sighing softly. You smell like you. Just undeniably you. 

His lips brush your neck, and he kisses along your jaw, gliding his mouth towards the corner of yours. You take the hint, turning your head to meet his kiss as he fucks in to you, your fingers laced, still pressed against the warm glass of the shower wall. 

There’s nothing gentle about it, nothing kind and soft, and yet, with the way he’s kissing at your skin, with the way he’s grasping your hands, you feel so incredibly  _ loved.  _ “You feel so tight,” he breathes, teeth dragging over your shoulder, “and you’re dripping. I can’t tell if it’s your juices or the water that’s dripping down my legs.” He pants in to your skin, hips almost bruising as they fuck up in to you. 

One hand leaves yours, only to dip between your thighs and rub covetous circles over your clit. “You’re really feeling it, hmm?” He teases. “Your tits pressed up against the glass, my fingers on your clit, pounding away at that pretty pussy of yours…” You whimper, but Karma only chuckles in your ear. “That’s it, my pet. Just take it all. Every last inch of me.” 

Your free hand moves down to grasp at his, still moving between your legs, forehead resting against the glass wall in front of you. Holding on tight, you breathe heavily, eyes squeezed shut, hips rocking back against his with quivering thrusts. “There’s a good girl…” He murmurs, and sinks his teeth in to your shoulder. “ _ Now cum for me.”  _

It’s always like an explosion when he commands you. 

You’re not sure if it’s a Pavlovian reaction or what, but whenever he whispers those words in to your ear, you’re melting for him in a puddle of cum, drool and often, tears. 

Crying out his name against the shower wall, you just barely manage to keep standing - though most of that probably has to do with Karma stilling behind you, his hips flush against your ass and pinning you to the glass. 

As warm as the shower is, his cum is  _ hotter _ , and you can feel it filling you to the brim, painting your insides white with his seed. Together, the two of you slump forward against the glass, stringing, viscous strands of cum dripping down from your abused hole, leaking around his cock and splattering to the shower floor to be washed away by the steady torrent of hot water. 

He doesn’t move for a long while, remaining slumped against you, peppering kisses up and down your neck. 

When he  _ does  _ finally move, it’s only so that he can grab the soap, the two of you helping one another wash away the sweat after your intense...workout. He takes great care to gently wipe over the cut on your cheek, and you’re just as gentle with the wound on his arm (he wouldn’t tell you  _ how  _ he got it, but it’s fresh enough that you’re not stupid). 

He washes your hair for you, and you choose not to comment on the uncharacteristic softness that he’s showing you. Washed, cleaned and rinsed, he bundles the two of you up in fluffy towels and rubs your hair dry for you. Karma remains silent, the entire time, likely lost in his thoughts, and you don’t push him to tell you what he’s thinking. 

If he wants to, he’ll tell you when he’s ready. 

Getting in to your large, plush bed that night, he doesn’t even bother with changing - just pulls the towel off next to the bed and slips his bare body between the sheets. You decided to do the same thing - the warm Italian summers are too hot and sticky at night to be hindered by clothing - and curl up just before your lover, smiling when he reaches out to lace your pinkies. 

“...I love you.” He finally tells you, something that he normally keeps to himself. I love you is special, he had told you once. Something that he wanted you to be  _ sure  _ he meant when he would share it on the rare occasion with you. 

So when he says it now, after everything that had transpired that night, you can’t stop yourself from snuggling up in to his arms, Italian summers be damned. He seems to echo your sentiment, because he’s ready for you - wrapping his arms around you the moment you’re laying against his chest. 

“I love you, too.” 

He doesn’t say anything, after that - but the lips pressed to the top of your head are more than enough to give away his soft smile. 

-

You’re surprised, the next morning, to find yourself waking up in bed with him. You don’t remember moving from the shower, and yet, here you are. Tucked in his arms, thin blankets curled up around your shoulders, and the bright Tuscany sun shining warm and strong through the open window, high up in the sky already. 

Down on the busy, bustling streets below, you can hear the chatter of people, the cars driving by, the little scooters buzzing down the streets. There’s the smell of  _ something  _ fried down in the streets below, and just over that, looking out your window, you can both see and  _ smell  _ the ocean, lapping against the shore just a short ways off. 

When Karma had booked this room, he’d spared little expense in making sure you got an ocean view. He would never tell you, but it had all been for you. When you’d first arrived the other night, and you’d thrown open the windows, leaning out and taking a deep breath of that fresh, seabreeze air, bright smile on your face, he knew that he had made the right decision. 

The sun, seeming so much closer to you here than back home, seemed to agree with you, making your skin all but glow, eyes sparkling. When you had turned around, the sunlight filtered through flyaway strands of your hair, lighting up behind you and making you look next to ethereal. 

It was an image that Karma had stowed away for safekeeping in the back of his mind. 

Now, with the room lit up bright and warm, curtains fluttering in the breeze coming off the ocean, he still thinks the same thing - when the sunlight hits your face, when it brightens your sleepy eyes, he can compare you as akin to nothing less than a goddess. 

Lucky for you, though - he was a god, himself. A match made in literal heaven, with you tucked securely in his arms. “Are you going to continue drooling all over the pillow, or are you going to get up so I can take you on a date?” He asks, and you groan, bringing the back of your hand up to your mouth. 

Wiping away the drool there (dammit, he was right), you roll on to your back, blinking blearily up at the ceiling. “What date?” You finally ask, groggy, when you’re able to process his words. 

Karma actually looks a bit shy. “Well...I was thinking that, since this is our last day here, and the job is done...why not make the most of the sights? It would be a waste to spend our last day in one of the most beautiful countries in the world cooped up inside.” He smirks, reaches out for a lock of your hair and follows it down, down, till long fingers brush your neck and tease back and forth along your collar bone. “Although spending it with you, naked in bed, is also a very good idea.” 

Flushing, you grab the sheets and pull them away from him, the thin white material wrapped around your chest as you sit up. “You’re a tease.” You chastise, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. The wood flooring is sun warmed and pleasant against your feet, and you wriggle your toes a little before standing up with a little moan. Back arching, you stretch one arm high above your head, the other holding the sheet in place. 

You can hear a couple little cracks as your body limbers up, and you glance back at him over your bare shoulder. “I’ll go get ready, then. The bathroom door will be  _ locked  _ thank you very much.”

It’s impossible to miss his cheeky laughter as you grab your overnight bag. “It’s cute that you think that would stop me. Go on, hurry up. I have plans for us, today.” 

As you close the bathroom door behind you, you can’t help but wonder to yourself just what those plans of his may be. 

/

It strikes you as mildly ironic that the first place Karma brings you is San Bartolomeo. An ancient, crumbling abbey dating back to 1006 - or so the description tells you. With a little smirk, you look up from your phone, after reading aloud a short history of the abbey, and glance over in Karma’s direction. “Is this your way of telling me you want to fuck in a church?” 

One of the locals scowls at you, clearly understanding your speech, and ushers her young child away, to which you and Karma both laugh. 

“Mm….maybe not right now, but at some point, I think we could.” His eyes flash. “Should we go check it out?” 

Your eyes widen, and you look around at the other tourists, and the fencing around the old ruins. “I- what? Karma, we’ll get caught.” 

“Only if we let them catch us.” He winks. 

“We’ll get in so much shit.” 

Still, you’re following after him as he takes your hand, pulling you from the smattering of people and over to a secluded area, looking around to make sure you’re alone before ducking through some bushes, following them up the length of the fence to slip behind the building. “When has that ever stopped you before?” He says, and you sigh, knowing that he’s right. 

You’re always up for a little fun - and this? Oh, this seems like  _ fun.  _

Behind you, now that you stand at the back of the building, you can hear the water rushing over the side of the cliff, crashing in to the rocks as Karma crouches down next to one of the steel posts, whipping out the knife he seemed to carry on his person at all times. While you lean out to watch the waves, Karma wriggles around with the screws holding the fencing in place, until, at last, he’s ushering you over as he holds up the wire for you to crawl under. 

Karma follows after you, and the two of you are careful to duck and weave through old rubbles and tall grass, hiding from passerby until you slip through a crumbling door and inside the walls. 

The wonder on your face is the exact reason he brought you. All around you, tall, brick walls that once were a glorious work of architecture, were now crumbling and faded. On the ground, there were faded paths etched in to the stone - remnants of the trails that people used to walk, over and over and over again. People, long, long ago, revered this place. It was a sanctuary to them. The thought that you’re standing in the middle of a building people used one thousand and fourteen years before your time is mind boggling. 

Your fiance stands back, arms lazily crossed, content to watch you bustle around from room to room, more than happy to watch the gleam, the excitement, in your eyes. 

After a solid half hour, you appear to have tuckered yourself out - at least on the abbey - and he’s pulling you in to his arms. “Had enough already?” He teases, and you whine, looping your arms about his neck. 

“There’s a lot to see, and I think I did it too fast. I couldn’t help it, though - it’s amazing!” 

Ah, there’s that gleam again. Karma finds it impossible not to set his hands on your jaw, fingers soft as they brush against your hair, and press his lips to yours. You don’t hesitate to return his kiss, fingers gripping at his white button up. For a moment, it stays that way - soft, gentle, pressing and feeling. 

But then he’s smirking in to your mouth, the irony of the situation not lost on  _ him,  _ either, and he pushes you against the remains of a low wall, forearms on either side of your head as he boxes you in. “You know, I said we wouldn’t fuck in here, but…” And he laughs against your mouth, breath hot as it washes over your lips, “maybe making out for a little wouldn’t be so bad…”

/

The two of you manage to slip away with no problems, just narrowly avoiding a passing patrol as he whistles to himself. You’re just rounding the outside corner of the fence when you hear the man curse, followed by the rattling of the fence as he lifts the corner you and Karma had broken in with. 

Karma takes your hand and sets off running, a few short laughs bubbling from his throat, as you giggle, the both of you disappearing through the foliage and back to the main road. You slow down when you hit the cobblestone, looking behind you - but it appears that the guard didn’t give chase, or hopefully, even know that you were there. 

You linger in Vetulonia a little while longer, exploring the city and the splendor that it still retained, the ancient history that was right under your very feet. Together, you take in the sights of the ancient city, high up on a rocky hill. Etruscan paths - thousands of years old - line the surrounding countryside. There are rocky walls built deep down in to hills, foreboding looking doorways and black entryways almost enticing you deep into the catacombs. 

Inside the city walls, there are old, crumbling walls lining the streets - still standing despite thousands of years of use. They’re chipped, and the colour is drained after many long days under the hot Italian sun. Along the way, Karma stops at a street vendor, and you’re not sure  _ what  _ the fried food you’re eating is, but it’s utterly delicious. 

You explore the old archaeological site, your footsteps making muted thumps against the old stone walkway. 

On your way back to Castiglione, you stop at the Viaggio di Ritorno garden, the sky dim with the setting sun, cool summer air brushing against your skin. Karma’s got an arm around you a moment later - he knows exactly what you need, sometimes before even you, do. 

The sights set among the greenery are truly extraordinary, manufactured by reused materials that would once have been seen as waste, now turned in to stunning fixtures of art. Your favourite, when you get to it at long last, is the Luminous Sphere - made with wires, bottles, and old foundry glass. The light glints from the glass, turning what was once a pile of rubbish in to, well, luminous beauty. 

It’s in the light refracting off this sphere that Karma tugs you with the arm around your shoulders, and kisses you once again. 

-

Finally, after a short jaunt back to Castiglione, you settle in for dinner. Karma insists on paying (neither of you are strapped for funds, but you appreciate the gesture), and to order whatever you like. 

Being right on the water, as a fishing city - the boats all docked and tied up, having already brought in their wriggling quarry - Karma elects for one of their many seafood dishes. After ordering your own meal, he holds up a finger and asks for a bottle of wine, as well. Their finest, no less, price not being an issue, and the waiter is wide eyed for a moment before bowing, and scurrying away. 

The rest of your dinner is spent talking quietly over your meal, stealing bits of each others food. Karma goes to steal the last bite of food on your plate, but you block him with your fork - starting a small sparring match over the table, your soft laughter attracting the attention of a few other patrons. 

Finally, just a little bit faster, Karma pokes his fork in and pulls it from your plate. Instead of popping it in his mouth, however, he holds it out to you. “ _ Aprire.” _ _ [13]  _ He tells you. Just like last night, you  _ know  _ he doesn’t have to speak Italian right now, but even though you understand the basics (the second you found out your target was living somewhere in Tuscany, Karma had drilled basic conversational Italian in to your head), hearing him speak it so easily, words flowing and rolling off his tongue, sends a flustered shiver up your spine. 

You open your mouth just as he asks, and he pops the last bite between your lips, your tongue flicking it away and further inside. Karma doesn’t pull his gaze from yours, not even as he flags the waiter down for the bill. It’s only when he pulls out enough money to cover the bill does he look away, but even then, he’s glancing back up at you as soon as he’s done. 

Karma doesn’t give you a chance to voice a question before he’s helping you to your feet, and whisking you away out the door. Heading back to the hotel, he grips tight to your hand, refusing to let go, humming a low, cheery tune under his breath. You’re not sure what has him in such a good mood, but you don’t bother to ask. 

Better to let him have it, you muse. 

The cool night air has him holding you close to his side, his arm tucked around your shoulders, thumb stroking your upper arm. It’s more affection than you can ever remember seeing from him before, but you aren’t about to question it. The last thing you want is for him to stop. Perhaps it’s because your men aren’t around. So far away from home, with no one else around right now, save for the few men you brought with you to Castiglione for insurance measures, there’s no one that he has to try for. 

There’s no mafia to deal with, right now. No one looking up to him. No one seeking him out for guidance. No one asking him endless questions. No one that he has to be tough mafia boss Karma Akabane for. 

Here, with you, like this, under the Italian night sky, littered with stars? He’s just Karma. Your lover, your fiance, your soulmate. 

When you get back to the hotel, he’s oddly quiet. The stewardess gives the both of you a cheery smile from her desk, and you give her a friendly wave in response. Karma moves to the stairs, and your confusion must show on your face, because he’s clearing his throat and looking straight ahead. “...I thought it would be nice, to spend a little more time with you.” 

The sentiment has your heart lurching pleasantly, and you give him a soft smile, squeezing his hand in return. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. You’re more than content to bask in the feeling with him, for however long the world decides to let this moment of yours last. 

Back in your room, Karma doesn’t bother to flick on the lights. Your window is still open, letting in the fresh breeze off the water, the room bathed in a cool blue tone from the light outside. You don’t even hesitate to pull open the balcony doors, stepping outside in the thin summer dress that you’d worn on your date, toeing off your sandals and kicking them just inside the door. 

It’s peaceful, like this. Stone dividers are built between your balcony and the next, leaving you entirely cut off from your neighbours. The railing is made of thick, dark wrought iron, and you lean against it as you watch the waves roll in on the shower below, a silver trail of moonlight glinting along the water. 

Karma comes to join you a moment later, and you feel the heat of his chest press up against your back - his shirt unbuttoned, the skin of his torso hot against the bare skin of your upper back where the neckline of your dress didn’t cover. 

You enjoy this side of him, you muse, as he slides his hands down over your shoulders, along your bare arms to lace around your front and squeeze over your hands. His lips leave kisses along the bare skin of your shoulder, nosing your hair out of the way so he can mouth at your neck. 

As vulnerable as Karma can be with you sometimes - this is a whole new level. After so many years together, he trusted you - and implicitly. He knew how to be open, how to talk with you, to show you sides of him that he’d never shown anyone else before. In a world where he had only to be strong, to never show anyone his weaknesses, he could be bare with you. 

Bare, vulnerable, showing you his everything and just hoping that you didn’t crush it in your hands. But your fingers had always been gentle. Bandaging wounds, tracing his scars, touching, coaxing, letting him open up to you as you do with him. And they’re gentle still now, as they trace over the backs of his arms, finding his hands and brushing slow circles over his knuckles. 

When he pulls his hands away, you have an inkling of what he’s planning even before he does it - and when his fingers brush your back, sending goosebumps along your spine as he tugs slowly at the zip of your dress, you know that you were right. 

He pulls it down to the dip above your ass, skimming his fingers back up your arms again and to the straps of your dress, pushing them slowly down as he kisses along your shoulder. The material falls to the floor, pooling around your feet, and you step out of it as Karma kisses down your back, plucking up your dress only to throw it over with your sandals. 

Long, thin fingers hook in to your panties and tug them down, slowly, over the curve of your ass, kissing along it as he does - open mouthed, wet, teeth sinking in now and again. Those, too, find a home with the rest of your discarded clothing, and he’s gripping at your thighs with broad, calloused hands, tugging you back a few shuffling steps. 

Still on his knees, Karma sets a hand against the small of your back, pressing with the barest hints of pressure.  _ “Piegati in avanti.” _ _ [14]  _ He murmurs, and you shiver, nodding. Leaning forward, your brace your hands against the railing, while Karma gently wriggles closer to you, spreading your legs apart with his knees. 

Bare and spread out before him, there’s little you can do but lower your head, peeking between your legs as Karma tugs at your folds with his thumbs, voice a low, throaty hum as he murmurs against your cunt,  _ “Grazie per il pasto...” _ _ [15] . _

Karma knows how to be passionate. Particularly when it came to you. And while he could tease you with his fingers and tongue till the sun came up - and he often did - now was not one of those times. He lingers between your legs for a moment, lets you feel the heat of his breath against the spread lips of your cunt, lets you revel in the tantalizing torture, the waiting game, the calm before the storm. He’s riling you up, waiting for you, giving you a moment to appreciate what he’s going to do, appreciate the delicious anticipation, before he properly feasts. 

The wait is enough to have you eagerly swivel your hips, and the huff of laughter he gives against you has you squeaking, jerking forward a little, but his fingers dig in to your ass even as his thumbs still hold you spread wide open. “What’s the matter, hm? Someone getting a little antsy?” He looks at you around the curve of your ass, and when you turn your head to look back at him over your shoulder, he’s grinning. 

“Wouldn’t have to be if someone wasn’t such a goddamn tease.” You reprimand lightly, and he only clicks his tongue in response. 

He disappears back behind you again, and you feel the hot lash of his tongue unexpectedly against your open cunt. Shrieking, your hands grip hard at the bars of the railing, surprise scrawled across your features. Your heels pop off the ground, rising up to your tip-toes, but Karma pulls you back down with the grip that he’s got on your ass...and then stops. 

You whine, scowling, as you drop your head again. “Fuck you.” 

He laughs. “You like it when I tease. Why don’t you be a good girl and let me play with you for a bit? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” 

Karma takes your silence as a response, because in the next moment, he’s back between your legs, face buried in your pussy as his tongue flattens over your folds. He licks through them, dragging over your clit on a downward stroke that leaves him poking the tip of his tongue against your hole, teasing with a few lazy prods before moving back up again. 

His only regret about the position is the inability to suck your clit between his lips, to toy with it with his teeth, but he can make do, like this. Eating you from behind, devouring your pretty pussy. 

Over time, he’d found that he had a knack for it, an affinity for making you cum on his tongue. When the two of you first slept together, you’d both been young and inexperienced, but he was nothing if not a quick study. It didn’t take long for him to find out what made you tick, what parts of your body to push and tease to have you putty in his hands. 

And it certainly didn’t take him long to learn just how to eat your cunt. 

So it’s really no surprise that he’s got you right on the edge in minutes, your chest heaving, lips parted as you suck in lungfuls of cool evening air, almost able to taste the ocean right on your tongue. Your toes curl and unfurl against the sun warmed stone beneath your feet, still retaining the warmth even after the sun has disappeared. Cool evening air saps the soaked in heat slowly, but your body feels anything but a chill. 

Heat lashes, thick and intense, over your cunt, spiraling from the crux of your thighs to every nerve ending in your body, your entire body sensitive, prickling, buzzing with a needy energy that has your muscles tensing and hips grinding back against his face. 

Karma still doesn’t relent - if anything, he eats you all the more. Voracious, starving, appetite appearing unending, insatiable, as he continues to devour you. 

He wasn’t kidding when he called you a meal. 

Even as your thigh muscles quiver, threatening to give out, he works at you. His hands glide down the curve of your ass to your thighs, squeezing, groping for a moment before his arms curl around them to hold you close. You can feel his muscles strain as he helps support you, thighs still quivering but no longer in danger of sending you crashing in to him. 

You can hear him, down between your legs. Hear the sloppy sounds of your cunt, now slick with both your arousal and his saliva. Hear the lewd squelching of your hole as he fucks you with his tongue. Hear his breath, shaky, quivering, moaning in to your slick folds. His hips jerk, thrusting up against nothing, grinding at the air, and he groans in to you again. His hands are busy right now, though, as much as he would love to free himself from the confines of the comfy jeans he wore on your date today. 

So, instead, he slavers over your dripping cunt, feeling your mess leaking down his cheeks, his chin, rubbing against his jaw whenever he bumps against your soaked thighs. He can feel a strand or two break from where it strings down from your folds - or running over his chin - and fall against his bare chest. 

His hips thrust upward again, and he moans between your thighs, feeling the quivering muscle in them as he holds you all the tighter. You can’t hold on much longer, and neither can he - his cock aches from where it’s pressed tightly against his pants. “ _ Vieni per me.”  _ He tells you once more, just like he did in the shower. 

And just like that, the winding tension snaps. 

Your knees buckle, and Karma’s holding you up with strong arms, tongue dutifully licking the mess that drips from your cunt, orgasm ripping through you less like a tidal wave and more like a fucking tsunami. For a moment, you can’t breathe, and then it all comes rushing back to you seconds later, chest heaving, breasts having, at some point, slipped out of the cups of your bra and hanging free. 

When he feels that you’ll be okay to stand on your own for a moment, he’s pulling away with a soft kiss and a sharp nip to the left cheek of your ass, his fingers fiddling with the buckle of his belt, loose around his hips. The sound of it has you mewling, head lowering again, back arched as you try not to sag right to the ground. Every muscle in your body quivers like they’re made of jelly, feeling about just as strong as the gelatinous treat. 

There’s a promising  _ zzzziip  _ behind you, and the rustling of clothing as Karma shoves his jeans down his thighs, shifting first one knee and then the other, to push them back to his feet and pull them off. His briefs are tucked inside the denim, but he can fix that in the morning. For now, they join the steadily ever growing pile of clothes just inside the sliding glass doors of the balcony, and then he’s turning to you again. 

He moves back between your legs, kisses the puffy folds of your abused pussy, and you can’t hold back the throaty sob that tumbles past drool soaked lips. “N-Not again, I’m sensitive-” You try to warn him, but he only nips sharply at your inner thigh with the sharp canines of his that you’d always found dangerously attractive. 

“You can.” He tells you. “That was only one.” He hums and kisses your folds again - you force yourself to stay still, though you can’t stop the quivering little whine that rumbles against your lips, tickling them with the vibration. “The other night, I ate you to  _ three.”  _ He reminds you. “I’m sure you can handle one more.” He lifts one hand to gingerly rub your cunt, fingers slowly circling around your cunt. “At least one more. I know that you’ve got it in you.” And then, softer, “I wouldn’t make you if I knew that you couldn’t.” 

You almost sob again. He’s right, you know he is. Karma knows your limits just as well as you do, and as sensitive as you were from your first orgasm...well, you could handle another. Your silence earns you a soft kiss on the thigh, and you let out a shaky breath. For all his pomp and circumstance, Karma is waiting on you to give him the go ahead before pushing you any further. 

“Okay.” You finally whisper, and he raises a brow. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t quite hear you.” 

You know what he’s asking, and you whine. “ _ Certo.” _

Karma grins.  _ “Molto bene, tesoro mio.” _ _ [16]  _

He sets his hands on your calves, shifting them so one foot is slightly in front of the other, and slots them together. You gasp as the heat of his cock throbs against your calves, fingers curling in to a white knuckled grip around the iron railing. Licking his lips, Karma teases your folds from behind with his tongue, thrusting his hips against you and grinding against your calves. 

“You’re going to give me one more...and I’m going to fuck these gorgeous legs of yours. Okay?” 

“... _ C-Certo.”  _ You say again, and he laughs, kissing at the curve of your backside. 

_ “Mia brava ragazza.”  _ He says, and you bite your lip, hold your legs tightly together, and brace yourself. 

There’s no slow start, this time. No letting yourself adjust. Karma gets right in to it, almost growling as he devours every inch of your sloppy pussy that he can get his tongue on. The entire time, he moans Italian expletives against your folds, muffled - but something about them sounds even more delicious that way. 

Your calves are slick, sticky with the pre that’s being smeared across your skin, lubing the both of you up for an even easier glide between your legs. “M-mm- baby-” He groans against you, hips stuttering. 

He’s painfully hard, and even if you couldn’t feel it, you’d have been able to tell by the warble in his voice alone. “You taste so good,” there’s a lewd, wet slurping sound as he laps up copious amounts of your arousal, “and your legs feel so fucking good.” He groans, hissing between his teeth, “Yeah, you’re being such a good fucking girl.” He tells you, both hands coming up to knead firmly at the cheeks of your ass. 

The way he eats you is nothing short of debauched, sheer ecstasy coursing through your veins, clashing at a head with equal parts agony. When it came to Karma, the phrase ‘it hurts so good’, seemed to often be in effect. 

Now was no different. 

Your hips stutter, body and mind at war with the pleasure and the pain - fighting both to press closer to his questing mouth, and pull away from the arduous assault that’s obliterating all your other senses. 

At the hands of the delicious torment (and an oftentimes sadistic lover named Karma Akabane), you don’t stand a chance at holding out. Not that you would want to, as the pleasure between your thighs wars with the part of your brain that warns you to pull away from the immoral desperation that he’s exhibiting against your puddling cunt. 

You cum again with a sharp cry of his name, entire body tense, rigid, pressing up on your tip-toes as the muscles in your thighs pull and strain. You’re going to be sore tomorrow, you know, but you can’t find it in you to even care about that at the moment. Not with Karma  _ still  _ going at you, fucking between your calves and devouring everything that you have to give, soaking his face with a slick, dripping mess of cum. 

Aftershocks tremble through your body, even as you slump back down in to his hold, head ringing as blood rushes through your ears. If he wasn’t holding you up, you’d have crashed to the ground in a blissed out heap, drool sticking to your cheeks. Karma pulls away only when he’s cleaned you as best he can, and then he’s carefully leaning back and rising to his feet, wincing as he stretches out cramped legs. 

Rolling his shoulders, he slides his shirt down his arms and off his hands, balling it up for a moment to wipe off his face - utterly drenched with your slick. Even with your mess gone from his cheeks and lips, Karma can still smell you, still taste you on his skin, and he gives a greedy swipe of his tongue across swollen lips, tossing his shirt inside with the rest of your clothes. 

Fingers skim up your back to the clasp of your bra, undoing it deftly and letting it slide down off your arms, kissing your back once, twice, three times as he tosses that inside, too. There’s a small heap of clothes just inside the door, now, but he pays it no mind as his hands encircle your biceps. “C’mere…” Is all he says as he turns you around, pulling you in to him so he can press his lips to yours. 

You taste yourself on his tongue - tangy, mixed with a flavour that’s distinctly  _ him,  _ and you sink in to his arms with a tired moan. He’s all too eager to hold you all the tighter, his kisses sweet, soft, tongue gentle - even as you taste the remnants of your earlier sexual escapade everywhere you go. 

He pulls away with a wet smack, and for a moment, does little more than stare in to your eyes. But then he’s guiding you backwards, back through the sliding glass door, and tugging it closed. You have an inkling of where this is going, so you take his hand, this time, walking backwards towards the bed. 

Karma follows dutifully, though you know you’re far from ordering him around - judging by the almost carnivorous glint in his eyes, he wants this just as much as you. He never came, when he was between your legs, and his cock is hard, angry looking, and throbbing. While he’s not the longest, sitting at a modest 7 inches when hard, he’s got size where it counts - he’s girthy, thick cock the perfect size for you. 

The way he stretches you out is mind blowing, and you can’t imagine ever finding the same pleasure with anyone else. 

When the back of your knees hit the bed, you sink down against the plush mattress, scooting back even as he shifts to his hands and knees, crawling across the bed towards you. Leaning away from his lips, he follows after you, till your head hits the pillows and he kisses you again, cock resting hot and heavy between your spread legs. 

Bending your knees, you draw your legs up, feet planted against the bed, arms wrapped around his shoulders and tangled in his hair. Karma kisses you only a moment longer, and then he’s resting his forehead to yours, breath hot on your lips. He doesn’t say anything, as he reaches between the two of you to guide his cock to your entrance, and neither do you. There’s nothing but your sharp intake of breath as he stretches you open with the head of his length, and his stuttered breathing as your walls contract around him - hot, velvety, and slick. 

His name tumbling from your lips breaks the silence, and he answers with a call of your own, hips steadily moving forward until he’s sheathed inside you, every hot inch of him throbbing deliciously against the warm, tight walls of your dripping cunt. 

Karma pulls your arms from his shoulders, if only so he can slide his hands up them, lacing his fingers with yours and pressing them in to the mattress next to your head. His hips are moving, jerking forward and up against you, stretching you out, your body jolting up and down the bed with every thrust that you willingly, eagerly accept. 

And yet, it feels less like a fuck, and more like making love. 

It’s not a foreign concept, with Karma. You’ve had slow, sweet sex before. Made  _ love  _ like this. But something about the sentiment, about him taking his time with you, seeking to please you and make you his from head to toe before he takes you - carefully, yet deeply - makes your heart sing. 

Your toes curl against the blankets, feet sliding, and you pull them back up, latching them around his legs to hold him close. 

Not that it feels like Karma is going anywhere. 

His hands, still laced with yours, grip a little harder, and he presses open mouthed kisses up your shoulder, and over the column of your throat, nipping at your chin. “You’re beautiful.” He tells you, and breathe out a shaky sigh, squeezing his hands in return. 

Age had tempered his attitude - age, and the weight of running an entire crime syndicate for the last few years of his life. While he still was sadistic, still could ruin a life -  _ take  _ a life - without so much as blinking, he still had his moments like these. They’d come on slowly, like he had always been afraid to let you in. 

But come on they had - starting soft, casual. Little moments where he would cuddle you close, whisper in your ears. Pet your hair, stroke your back. Hold you in public, and kiss you so gently, like he was scared that you might break to pieces in his grasp if he pushed you too hard. 

The first time he’d made love to you, you’d cried - and he’d wiped away your tears with his thumb, kissed your eyelids and reassured you that he was in love with you, that you meant everything to him. When it was over, he’d held you close, and spent hours waxing poetic about what having you in his life meant to him, how it had changed him. 

It was a memory you regarded fondly and held close to your heart. 

Now, with his hips smacking up in to yours, his mouth against every inch of skin that he can reach, you’re rocketed back to that very same feeling all over again. The emotions, the build up, the sweet words that really, truly, let you know your place in his life, at his side. That you were  _ meant  _ to be there, and always would be. 

So it’s not much of a surprise when he starts kissing up your cheeks and over your eyelids, whispering that you didn’t have to cry, that he’s got you, he loves you. “K-Karma-” His name tumbles from your lips, and you lick them, tasting the salt of your tears against plump skin. 

“I’m here,” he assures you, and his hips pick up the pace, pelvis bumping in to your clit with every thrust in your aching, eager heat, wanting nothing more than to swallow everything he had to give you, and give your everything to him in return, “You can let go.” He tells you, and it’s a soft murmur in to your neck. 

“You don’t have to hold back, come on. You want to cum?” Karma coos, and licks at a droplet of sweat that clings to your skin, threatening to roll over your shoulder and past your collar bone. He pulls one hand from yours, if only to move it between your legs, finding your folds, parted around his driving cock, and rubbing over your clit. 

Gasping, your back arches, pressing up against him, breasts rubbing over his chest. There’s a little hum from him as your nipples brush his skin, and then he goes right back in to it. “Come on, my-” he stops himself, “love.” 

You mewly at the soft pet name. 

“You’re so tense, so wound up. So  _ tight,  _ you’re dripping all over my cock. Don’t you want to be stuffed full with my seed? Leaking out my cum for hours? Or would you rather me leave my cock inside you after I cum, force you to hold it all in there until I say?” You whine again, and he gives a short laugh, a gentle kiss placed to your shoulder as your body sings in ecstatic delirium, a symphony, sheer artistry accompanied by little more than his own words and cries of your name. 

Once more, he tells you,  _ commands  _ you. “Go on, love. Cum all over my cock. Show me how badly you want me, how much you need to be filled, stuffed full with my cock and cum.  _ Cum  _ for me.” 

You’ve never been one to disobey your lover, and like you said earlier - you aren’t sure if it’s a Pavlovian reaction or something else. Whatever it is, it has you shrieking, free hand grasping at his upper arm. Your legs lock tight around his waist to hold him inside you, finger nails biting in to his arm as you cum. 

It’s one of your more explosive orgasms - despite the fact you hadn’t been edged, you hadn’t been denied orgasm. Even the overstim was light at best, Karma and you both knew that he could have pushed you much, much farther than the two orgasms he had brought you to. You had a record of four on his tongue alone, but he didn’t want to push you quite to that extent. 

At least, not tonight. Not when all your toys were at home, that is. 

Karma rubs you fervently through the orgasm, and the build up has you squirting against his thighs with a sharp cry of his name, head thrown back and fingers clenching so hard in thin sheets that your foggy mind worries they might tear. 

Dimly, through the haze blanketing every aspect of your brain, you’re aware that Karma is still fucking you - harder, this time. His hands grip your thighs, still locked about his hips, and he raises to his knees, your ass off the bed. Hands shoot down to rest against the mattress, looking up at him with an almost delirious gaze as you hold yourself steady while he fucks you in this new position. 

Each thrust of his hips slams up against your walls, and you shriek again, twisting the blankets in your fingers. On the tail end of three orgasms, there’s not much more your body can take, the muscles in your thighs quivering, tensing, legs squeezing tight around his hips as you fight to stave off an impending fourth. No, that would positively  _ ruin  _ you, you think. 

But he doesn’t let up, just keeps the jackhammering pace of his hips, teeth grit together, looking at you like you’re his entire world. 

And then, at long last, you feel the heat of his cum as he shoots rope after rope of it deep inside the greedy depths of your cunt, swallowing and claiming every last drop that he has to give. You watch his body go rigid, back ramrod straight, fingers gripping so tightly to your thighs that you’re pretty sure they’re going to bruise come tomorrow morning. 

You don’t mind - you like his marks on you. 

Sure enough, his own orgasm sets off another one of yours, and you tug so hard around his hips with your legs that he jerks forward, catching himself just in time with his hands on either side of your head. 

The kiss that he gives you speaks volumes for his feelings, even if he can’t. Desperation, adoration, sheer and utter  _ love.  _ His cock continues to twitch deep inside of you, spontaneous bursts of cum still painting you with his seed. As much as he loves cumming inside you, he loves to see it dripping down your body, too. Loves to see you run your fingers through it, smear it with your hands. 

Next time, he tells himself. 

For now…

Pulling away, he catches your dazed stare, and kisses your cheek. “I’ll be right back.” He tells you, extricating himself from the entangled mess of your arms and your legs, still clinging tightly to his body. He’s not sure if you even heard him in your fucked out state, but it doesn’t matter, he’s not going particularly far, anyways. 

Hissing as he pulls himself from your depths, Karma carefully shifts to the side of the bed, glancing over his shoulder as you whine, your thighs twitching and parting as your combined fluids leak to the blanket. Well, the cleaning lady is probably going to kill the two of you in the morning, but that’s a problem for another time. He distinctly remembers the stewardess downstairs letting the two of you know that there are extra blankets in the entryway closet, should you need - summer nights could be terribly finicky. 

He double checks that they’re in there on his way to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and running it under warm water. Karma wipes himself down quickly, first, not wanting to return to you as a sticky mess. With another, new wash cloth, he wrings out the excess water, grabs a cold bottle of water from the mini fridge in the room (it’s probably stupidly expensive, but then again, neither of you are hurting for money), and returns to you. 

“Here,” he murmurs, gently shifting you, “spread your legs for me.” You give a sleepy murmur in response, and he chuckles, settling on the edge of the bed next to your thighs. The cloth is wet and warm, and you can’t help but close your eyes, giving a sleepy smack of your lips as you to your best to fight off sleep. 

Karma notices this, and kisses your hip. “Hey, now. Can’t have you falling asleep on me yet.” He tells you, and the sleepy pout you give him, coupled with the weak, half hearted glare, only has him laughing in response. 

He spends the next few minutes getting you cleaned up, and, when he’s satisfied that you’re no longer a sticky mess, he sets the cloth on the bed and carefully lifts your legs. “C’mon, I need you to sit up for me.” 

Sighing, you pout, but acquiesce, hands helping lift your body to a sitting position, leaning against the headboard. Karma pulls the blanket from the bed, leaving the wash cloth bundled in it as he drops it near the door, pulling one of the fresh blankets from the closet and making his way back over to you again. 

Noticing the bottle of water on the nightstand, condensation pooling on the sides from the warmth of the air against the ice cold water, you gesture lightly to it. “That for me?” You croak, throat dry, and he nods, sitting next to you and uncapping it before pressing it in to your awaiting hands. 

Immediately, you start to chug as much of it as you can, and he clicks his tongue, tsks, and gently grabs your arm. “Slow down, you’re gonna give yourself a stomach ache.” He warns. You sigh, roll your eyes a little and pout, but you listen, pausing for a moment as you lick your now wet lips. 

After a moment, you lift the bottle to your lips again, taking a few large sips. Pleased that you seem to be listening to him, Karma grabs the blanket he’d set at the foot of the bed, unraveling it before grabbing the sides and shaking it out, letting it flutter loosely over the bed and your lap. 

Half the bottle is left, and you give Karma a sleepy hum, waiting for him to join you under the blanket before pressing it in to his hands. “Mm...here, you too.” You tell him, resting your head on his bare shoulder. 

His mind flashes back to yesterday in the car, and he gives a soft sigh, shaking his head. “Alright.” He agrees, accepting the bottle from you and taking a few long gulps. 

“Not so fast,” you tease, “you’re going to get a stomach ache.” 

Karma frowns, slips an arm around your waist and tickles your side. You squeal, jerking closer to his lap, and he splutters, holding the bottle away from you so you don’t knock in to it with your flailing. “H-Hey! Careful, you’re going to make me spill!”

“You’re the one that tickled me!” You complain. Your cheeks puff up a little, a pout twisting your lips in the most adorable of ways, trying so hard to look even mildly intimidating...but it just doesn’t work. He grins, and ruffles your hair. 

“You really are too cute.” He tells you, quietly. Despite your attitude yesterday, the way you’d fought and held your own against Erminia and several of his men, despite how tough as nails you could be when it came to commanding your own group, or even Karma’s own men, there was always some sort of sense of childlike wonder and awe that he saw in you from time to time. 

He would always say it was your beauty that first drew him in - shallow, callous, very much his high school self in every regard. But it had been your attitude. The look in your eyes, the emotions that roiled there - vibrant and unbridled, open for all the world to see. Your personality had drawn him in from the start, but after so many years like this, telling you that now was out of the question, absolutely. 

Instead, he ignores the way you roll your eyes in response, finishing off the last of the water and setting the empty bottle aside on his nightstand with a little, plastic thump. Despite being clean of sweat, now, the gentle breeze blowing in through the open window still sends a few little shivers racing up and down the length of your spine, body quivering just once as you make a little chatter with your teeth. Goose bumps prickle along the length of your arms and over your thighs, and you rub your hands over both for a short moment. 

Karma gives a good natured roll of his eyes at you. “Come here.” He tells you, not that he even needed to bother with saying the words. You’re already leaning in to him the moment he lifts his arm for you to snuggle close, your head resting comfortably against his chest. His arm settles around you, and he guides the two of you to lay back against the plush of the pillows, pulling the new, clean blanket up and over your shoulders to protect from the breeze. 

Tucked in his arms like this, you feel safe, warm,  _ loved,  _ and he makes sure you know it as he presses the most gentle of kisses to the top of your head. Fingers run through your hair, hand stroking softly, gently over your head, laying there in silence for a moment or two before he decides to speak. “You did so well,” he murmurs, and his free hand reaches around you to trail his fingers up and down the length of your spine, “you’re so good to me. Do you need anything else? Are you feeling okay?” 

You smile at his worry, kissing across the lean expanse of his chest directly in front of you. “I’m alright, thank you. I don’t….think I need anything else? I kind of just want to sleep.” You admit to him, and he hums in response, setting his chin atop your head as you snuggle in to one another. 

Karma surprises you by humming, and you blink, looking up at him for a moment - he only flushes, clearing his throat and refusing to meet your gaze. “I thought that...it would be nice. To help you fall asleep.” 

You grin, and nod, kissing at the underside of his jaw. “It was lovely, Karma. Thank you.” Your fingers stroke up the length of his waist. “What about you? Are you okay?” 

He hums softly. “I am. It…” He frowns, cheeks flushing with the barest hints of a tinge of pink. “It means a lot. That you trust me in this way.” 

Your gaze softens, and you smile. “I love you, Karma.” 

Sighing, he reaches down for your hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss over the engagement ring that glitters there, proud and bright in the light filtering in through thin curtains. The action makes your heart jump, and he looks down at your finger, twisting the ring there idly. “...I love you, too.” He finally says, and you press another kiss to his neck. 

The last thing you remember, before falling asleep that night, is the gentle humming of your lover, rumbling deep in his chest, right beneath your ear. 

-

“Is that everything?” You ask, looking around the room. 

Karma glances around as well, nodding, and you brush your hands together. “That should be it. We didn’t have a lot to worry about in the first place. Do you have the new dress I bought you?” 

You give him an amused smile. “I’m wearing it, silly.” 

He returns your playful smirk, grabbing you by the hand and twirling you under his arm before bringing you in to his chest, one hand settling on your waist and he begins to rock you slowly around the hotel room. “You know exactly what I mean, you brat.” 

You laugh. “Yes, I have it. It’s all packed with my things and ready to go.” Karma hums, leaning in to give you a soft kiss, lips pressing gently, perfectly, against your own. His bottom lip slots just right between the curve of your own, and you wonder, not for the first time - and definitely not the last - if he really was made specifically, only, for you. 

It’s...definitely a pleasant thought, the concept of “soulmates”. Perhaps he is yours. 

Karma dips you, his hand at your lower back keeping you from tumbling to the ground, and silences any objections that you might make by kissing you again. A little deeper, a little more insistent, and all you can do is bury your now free hand in his hair as he steals the breath from your lungs one kiss at a time - only to replace it with his own. 

There is a part of him in every part of you. 

Outside, from the open window, you can hear the ocean against the shore below, hear the loud shrieking and laughter of children, the ringing of bells down by the wharf a ways off as ships and boats both come and go. 

The room is sun warmed, and you can feel the rays of it through the window, trickling past open, thin curtains, warming you from the outside in. Karma breaks away from the kiss with a sigh, helping you back to your feet and resting his forehead against your own. “You have the documents, too?” He asks, softly, as though this moment is a fragile shard of glass, suspended, motionless, in time. 

“I do.” You say quietly. “They’re packed away securely in my bag.” You assure him. Karma kisses you once again, a little softer, this time - but also a little bit shorter, as he’s already pulling away, heading over to the balcony to do one last sweep of the area, make sure you really haven’t forgotten anything. 

It’s a long way back home, after all. 

You come to join him on the balcony, glancing over his shoulder to find him watching the water, the way the sun glints off the peaks of little waves, glittering and grand, stretching so far in to the horizon you’re not sure if that’s still land or water. 

Sliding your arms about his middle, you rest your chin up against his shoulder as best you can, lips near his ear. “You don’t want to leave either, huh?” You ask him, and when Karma chuckles, you can feel it under your fingers, locked over his stomach. 

“It is a little bit...difficult, to say goodbye.” He finally admits, and you smile, pressing your lips to his shoulder over the loose white t-shirt that was draped casually over his lithe frame. 

“I know.” You agree. “I feel the same way. It’s only been a few days, but a lot has happened here. I don’t think either of us planned to stay long, but after seeing only such a small percentage of the area...and there’s still the rest of Italy to explore, too. Far too much for a few days.” 

“Far too much.” Karma agrees, and there’s an almost wistful note to his voice that you most certainly don’t miss. Not only were you taught (by him, no less) how to read your target, you also focus so heavily on him, all the damn time, that you just  _ know.  _ You can feel it in the way his body seems to slump under your touch, hear it in the edge just beneath his normal voice. 

“Karma?” 

He hums in response, and tilts his head just a little.

“Can we come back here again, soon? Like...maybe for our honeymoon?” You ask, nosing gently against the dip between his shoulder blades. 

He pauses, then laughs, turns around and kisses you - soft, sweet. Promising. “ _ Cara mia _ ...I would love that.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [1] Cara mia - an older term of endearment, meaning “my darling”.   
> [2] Certo - of course/certainly  
> [3] “Good evening, Antonella Casalino, and this is my fiancee, Rosalva Lancia.”  
> [4] “Right this way.”  
> [5] Thank you/Thanks  
> [6] “May I?”  
> [7] “Don’t move.”  
> [8] “I’ll kill you for this, bitch!”   
> [9] “That’s a good girl.”  
> [10] “Touch yourself.”  
> [11] “Cum [come] for me, baby/darling”   
> [12] “Sorry, do you want to taste [try]?”   
> [13] Open/Open up  
> [14] “Bend [lean] over.”  
> [15] “Thanks for the meal.”  
> [16] “Very good, my pet/darling”


End file.
